PR 4729 
G5 116 
1893 
Copy 1 



Pocket !55£/r 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
S^ap. Sniii|rt5l^l f o. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 



MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 

% Colkcticn of 

SOME OF THE MASTER'S BEST-KNOWN DRAMAS 

CONDENSED, REVISED, AND SLIGHTLY 

REARRANGED FOR THE BENEFIT 

OF THE EARNEST STUDENT 



BY i^ 

F. ANSTEY \^4^. ^It^i 



Author of " Vice Versa," " Voces Populi," etc. 



^ ' i/^AV^S 1893 




MACMILLAN AND CO. 

AND LONDON 
1893 

All rights reserved 



I 



t 



-^ 



Copyright, 1893, 
By MACMILLAN AND CO. 



Norfajooli iPregg : 

J. S. Gushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith. 
Boston, Mass., U.S.A. 



PREFATORY NOTE. 



The Concluding Piece, " Pill-doctor Herdal," is, as 
the observant reader will instantly perceive, rather a 
reverent attempt to tread in the footprints of the 
Norwegian dramatist, than a version of any actually 
existing masterpiece. The author is conscious that 
his imitation is painfully lacking in the magnificently 
impenetrable obscurity of the original, that the vein of 
allegorical symbolism is thinner throughout than it 
should be, and that the characters are not nearly as 
mad as persons invariably are in real life, — but these 
are the faults inevitable to a 'prentice hand, and he 
trusts that due allowances may be made for them by 
the critical. 

In conclusion, he wishes to express his acknowledg- 
ments to Messrs. Bradbury & Agnew for their permis- 
sion to reprint the present volume, the contents of 
which made their original appearance in the pages of 
" Punch." 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

No. I. ROSMERSHOLM -9 

No. II. Nora; or, the Bird-Cage . „ -43 

No. III. Hedda Gabler 89 

No. IV. The Wild Duck 139 

Pill-Doctor Herdal . . „ . . -171 



No. I. 
ROSMERSHOLM 




"Taking off his gloves meaningly." 



No, I. 
ROSMERSHOLM. 

ACT I. 

Sitting-room at Rosmersh'dlm, with a stove, flower- 
stand, windows, ancient and mode7'n ancestor's, 
doors, and everything handsome abotit it. Re- 
becca West is sitting knitting a large antimacas- 
sar which is nearly finished. Now and then she 
looks out of a window, and smiles and nods 
expectaritly to some one outside. Madam Hel- 
SETH is laying the table for supper. 

Rebecca {folding up her work slowly) . 
But tell me precisely, what about this White 
Horse ? \Smiling quietly. 



12 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

Madam Helseth. 

Lord forgive you, Miss ! — (^fetching cruet-stand, 
and placing it on table') —^ but you're making fun of 
me ! 

Rebecca {gravely). 

No, indeed. Nobody makes fun at Rosmersholm, 
Mr. Rosmer would not understand it. {Shutting 
window.) Ah, here is Rector Kroll. {Opening 
door.) You will stay to supper, will you not. Rec- 
tor, and I will tell them to give us some Uttle extra 
dish. 

Kroll {hanging up his hat in the hall). 

Many thanks. ( Wipes his boots.) May I come 
in ? ( Comes in, puts down his stick, sits down, and 
looks about hiin.) And how do you and Rosmer 
get on together, eh? 



ACT I. ROSMERSHOLM. 13 

Rebecca. 
Ever since your sister, Beata, went mad and 
jumped into the mill-race, we have been as happy 
as two little birds together. {After a pause, sitting 
down in arm-chair.) So you don't really mind my 
living here all alone with Rosmer ? We were afraid 
you might, perhaps. 

Kroll. 
Why, how on earth — on the contrary, I shouldn't 
object at all if you — {looks at her meaningly') h'm ! 

Rebecca {interrupting gravely) . 
For shame. Rector; how can you make such 
jokes ! 

Kroll {as if surprised). 
Jokes? We do not joke in these parts — but 
here is Rosmer. 



14 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

Enter Rosmer, gently and softly. 

ROSMER. 

So, my dear old friend, you have come again, 
after a year's absence. {Sits down.) We almost 
thought that — 

Kroll {nods). 
So Miss West was saying — but you are quite 
mistaken. I merely thought I might remind you, if 
I came, of our poor Beata's suicide, so I kept away. 
We Norwegians are not without our simple tact. 

RoSMER. 

It was considerate — but unncessary. Reb — I 
mean Miss West and I often allude to the incident, 
do we not? 

Rebecca {strikes Tdndstickor). 
Oh, yes, indeed. {Lighting lamp.) Whenever 
we feel a little more cheerful than usual. 



ACT I. ROSMERSHOLM. 15 

Kroll. 

You dear good people ! ( Wanders up the room.) 
I came because the Spirit of Revolt has crept into 
my School. A Secret Society has existed for weeks 
in the Lower Third ! To-day it has come to my 
knowledge that a booby-trap was prepared for me by 
the hand of my own son, Laurits, and I then dis- 
covered that a hair has been inserted in my cane 
by my daughter Hilda ! The only way in which a 
right-minded Schoolmaster can combat this anarchic 
and subversive spirit is to start a newspaper, and I 
thought that you, as a weak, credulous, inexperi- 
enced and impressionable kind of man, were the 
very person to be the Editor. 

[Rebecca laughs softly, as if to herself. Rosmer 
ficmps up and sits doiun again. 

Rebecca {with a look ^/Rosmer). 
Tell him now ! 



i6 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

RosMER {retu lining the look) . 

I can't — some other evening. Well, perhaps — 
{To Kroll.) I can't be your Editor — because 
{in a low voice) I — I am on the side of Laurits 
and Hilda ! 

Kr'oll {looks from one to the other, gloomily). 
H'm! 

RoSMER. 

Yes. Since we last met, I have changed my 
views. I am going to create a new democracy, and 
awaken it to its true task of making all the people 
of this country noblemen, by freeing their wills, and 
purifying their minds ! 

Kroll. 
What do you mean? \Takes up his hat. 



ACT I. ROSMERSHOLM. 17 

RosMER {bowing his head) . 

I. don't quite know, my dear friend ; it was Reb 

— I should say, Miss West's scheme. 

Kroll. 

H'm ! {A suspicion appears in his face.) Now 
I begin to believe what Beata said about schemes 

— no matter. But, under the circumstances, I will 
not stay to supper. 

\Takes up his stick and walks out. 

ROSMER. 

I told you he would be annoyed. I shall go to 
bed now. I don't want any supper. 

\He lights a candle and goes out; pi-esently his 
footsteps ai'e heard overhead, as he undresses. 
^'E.BY.CCA pulls a bell-rope. 



i8 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

Rebecca {to Madam Helseth, who enters with 
dishes') . 

No, Mr. Rosmer will not have supper to-night. 
{In a lighter tone.) Perhaps he is afraid of the 
nightmare. There are so many sorts of White 
Horses in this world ! 

Madam Helseth {shaking). 

Lord ! lord ! that Miss West — the things she 
does say ! 

[Rebecca goes out through door, knitting antima- 
cassar thoughtfully, as Curtain falls. 



ACT II 

Rosmer's study. Doors and windows, bookshelves, 
a wjiting- fable. Door, with curtain, leading to 
Rosmer's bedroom. Rosmer discovered in a 
smoking-jacket cutting a pamphlet with a paper- 
knife. There is a knock at the door. Rosmer 
says, '^Come in.'" Rebecca enters in a morning 
wrapper and curl-papers. She sits in a chair 
close to Rosmer, a?id looks over his shoulder as 
he cuts the leaves. Rector Kroll is shown up. 

Kroll {lays his hat on the table and looks at 
Rebecca/;-^;;/ head to foot) . 
I am really afraid that I am in the way. 

Rebecca {surprised) . 

Because I am in my morning wrapper and curl- 
19 



20 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

papers ? You forget that I am emancipated, Rector 
Kroll. 

\_She leaves them and listens behind curtain in 
Rosmer's bedroom. 

ROSMER. 

Yes, Miss West and I have worked our way 
forward in faithful comradeship. 

Kroll {shakes his head at him slowly) . 
So I perceive. Miss West is naturally inclined 
to be forward. But, I say, really you know — 
However, I came to tell you that poor Beata was 
not so mad as she looked, though flowers did 
bewilder her so. ( Taking off his gloves meaningly?) 
She jumped into the mill-race because she had an 
idea that you ought to marry Miss West ! 

RosMER {jumps half up from his chair). 
I ? Marry — Miss West ! my good gracious, 



ACT II. ROSMERSHOLM. 2i 

Kroll ! I don't widerstand, it is most incompre- 
hensible. {Looks fixedly before him.) How ca7i 
people — {looks at him for a moment, then rises) 
Will you get out? {Still quiet and self -restrained^ 
But first tell me why you never mentioned this 
before ? 

Kroll. 

Why ? Because I thought you were both ortho- 
dox, which made all the difference. Now I know 
that you side with Laurits and Hilda, and mean to 
make the democracy into noblemen, and accord- 
ingly I intend to make it hot for you in my paper. 
Good morning ! 

\He slams the door with spite as Rebecca enters 
fro7n bedroom. 

RosMER {as if surprised). 
You — in my bedroom ! You have been listen- 
ing, dear? But you are so emancipated. Ah, 



22 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

well ! so our pure and beautiful friendship has been 
misinterpreted, bespattered ! Just because you 
wear a morning wrapper, and have lived here alone 
for a year, people with coarse souls and ignoble 
eyes make unpleasant remarks ! But what really 
^/^ drive Beata mad? Why did she jump into the 
mill-race? I'm sure we did everything we could to 
spare her ! I made it the business of my hfe to 
keep her in ignorance of all our interests — didn't 
I, now? 

Rebecca. 
You did — but why brood over it ? What does 
it matter? Get on with your great, beautiful task, 
dear {approacJmig him cautiously fj'om behifid), 
winning over minds and wills, and creating noble- 
men, you know — Joyful noblemen ! 

RosMER {walking about, restlessly, as if in thought). 
Yes, I know. I have never laughed in the whole 



ACT II. ROSMERSHOLM. 23 

course of my life — we Rosmers don't — and so I 
felt that spreading gladness and light, and making 
the democracy joyful, was properly my mission. 
But now — I feel too upset to go on, Rebecca, 
miless — {Shakes his head heavily.) Yes, an idea 
has just occurred to me — {looks at he?', and then 
rims his hands thiviigh his hair) — oh, my good- 
ness, no — I can't. \_He leans his elbows on table. 

Rebecca. 

Be a free man to the full, Rosmer — tell me your 
idea. 

RosMER {gloomily). 

I don't know what you'll say to it. It's this. 
Our platonic comradeship was all very well while I 
was peaceful and happy. Now that I'm bothered 
and badgered, I feel — why, I can't exactly explain, 
but I do feel that I must oppose a new and living 



24 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

reality to the gnawing memories of the past. I 
should, perhaps, explain that this is equivalent to an 
Ibsenian proposal. 

Rebecca {catches at the chairback with joy). 

How? at last — a rise at last ! {Recollects her- 
self.) But what am I about? Am I not an eman- 
cipated enigma? {Puts her hands over her ears 
as if in terror.) What are you saying? You 
mustn't. I can't think what you mean. Go away, 
do! 

RosMER {softly). 

Be the new and living reality. It is the only 
way to put Beata out of the Saga. Shall we try 
it? 

Rebecca. 

Never ! Do not — do not ask me why — for I 
haven't a notion — but never ! {Nods slowly to 



ACT 11. ROSMERSHOLM. 25 

him and rises.) White Horses would not induce 
me ! ( With her hand on door-handle^ Now 
you hiow / \_She goes out. 

RosMER {^sits up, stares thunderstruck at the stove, 
and says to himself) . 
Well — I — atn — [ Quick Curtain. 



ACT III. 

Sittmg-room at Rosmersholm. Sun shining out- 
side in the Garden. Inside Rebecca West is 
watering a geranium with a small watering- 
pot. Her crochet antimacassar lies in the arm- 
chair. Madam Helseth is rubbing the chairs 
with furniture-polish from a large bottle. Enter 
RosMER, with his hat and stick in his hand. 
Madam Helseth coi^ks the bottle and goes out to 
the right. 

Rebecca. 

Good morning, dear. (^ moment after — cro- 
cheting^ Have you seen Rector KroU's paper 

this morning? There's something about you in it. 
26 



ACT III. ROSMERSHOLM. 27 

ROSMER. 

Oh, indeed? i^Puts down hat and stick, and 
takes up paper. ^ H'm ! {Reads — then walks 
about the roo??i.) Kroll has made it hot for me. 
{Reads some more.) Oh, this is too bad ! Re- 
becca, they do say such nasty spiteful things ! 
They actually call me a renegade — and I can't 
think why ! They mustn't go on like this. All 
that is good in human nature will go to ruin if 
they're allowed to attack an excellent man like 
me ! Only think, if I can make them see how 
unkind they have been ! 

Rebecca. 
Yes, dear, in that you have a great and glorious 
object to attain — and I wish you may get it ! 

RoSMER. 

Thanks. I think I shall. {Happens to look 



28 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

through window, and jumps ^) Ah, no, I shan't — 
never now. I have just seen— 

Rebecca. 
Not the White Horse, dear? We must really 
not overdo that White Horse ! 

ROSMER. 

No — the mill-race, where Beata — {^Puts on his 
hat — takes it off again ^ I'm beginning to be 
haunted by — no, I ^t?;/'/ mean the horse — by a 
terrible suspicion that Beata may have been right 
after all ! Yes, I do believe, now I come to think 
of it, that I must really have been in love with you 
from the first. Tell me your opinion. 

Rebecca {struggling with herself, and still 
crocheting) . 
Oh — I can't exactly say — such an odd 
question to ask me ! 



ACT. III. ROSMERSHOLM. 29 

RosMER (shakes his head). 

Perhaps ; I have no sense of humour — no re- 
spectable Norwegian has — and I do want to 
know — because, you see, if I was in love with 
you, it was a sin, and if I once convinced myself of 
that — • \^lVanders across the room. 

Rebecca {bi-eaking out) . 

Oh, these old ancestral prejudices ! Here is 
your hat, and your stick, too ; go and take a walk. 

[RosMER takes hat and stick, first, then goes out 
and takes a walk ; presently Madam Helseth 
appears, and tells Rebecca something. Re- 
becca tells her something. They whisper 
together. Madam H. nods, and shows in 
Rector Kroll, who keeps his hat in his 
hand, and sits on a chair. 



30 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

Kroll. 

I merely called for the purpose of informing you 
that I consider you an artful and designing person, 
but that, on the whole, considering your birth and 
moral antecedents, you know — {iiods at her) — 
it is not surprising. (Rebecca walks about, wring- 
ing her hands ^ Why, what is the matter? Did 
you really not know that you had no right to your 
father's name? I'd no idea you would mind my 
mentioning such a trifle ! 

Rebecca {breaking oat) . 

I do mind. I am an emancipated enigma, but 
I retain a few little prejudices still. I don't like 
owning to my real age, and I do prefer to be 
legitimate. And, after your information — of 
which I was quite ignorant, as my mother, the 
late Mrs. Gamvik, never once alluded to it — I feel 



ACT III. ROSMERSHOLM. 31 

I must confess everything. Strong-minded ad- 
vanced women are like that. Here is Rosmer. 
(RosMER enters with his hat and stick.) Rosmer, 
I want to tell you and Rector Kroll a little story. 
Let us sit down, dear, all three of us. {They 
sit down, mechanically, on chairs.) A long time 
ago, before the play began — {in a voice scarcely 
audible) — in Ibsenite dramas, all the interesting 
things somehow do happen before the play be- 
gins— 

Rosmer. 

But, Rebecca, I know all this. Kroll — {looks 
hard at he?') . Perhaps I had better go ? 

Rebecca. 

No — I will be short — this was it. I wanted 
to take my share in the life of the New Era, and 
march onward with Rosmer. There was one dis- 
mal, insurmountable barrier — {to Rosmer, who 



32 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

nods gravely) — Beata ! I understood where your 
deliverance lay — and I acted. / drove Beata into 
the mill-race. . . . There ! 

RosMER {^after a short silence) . 
H'm ! Well, Kroll — {takes up his hat) — if 
you're thinking of walking home, I'll go too. I'm 
going to be orthodox once more — after this / 

Kroll {severely and impressively, to Rebecca) . 

A nice sort of young woman you are ! 

\_Both go out hastily, without looking at Rebecca. 

Rebecca {speaks to hej^self, under her breath). 
Now, I have done it. I wonder why. {Pulls 
bell-rope^ Madam Helseth, I have just had a 
gUmpse of two rushing White Horses. Bring 
down my hair-trunk. 

\_Enter Madam H., with large hair- trunk, as 
Curtain J alls , 



ACT IV. 

Late evening. Rebecca West stands by a lighted 
lamp, with a shade over it, packing sandwiches, 
&^c., in a reticule, with a faint smile. The 
antimacassar is on the sofa. Eiiter Rosmer. 

RosMER {seeing the sandwiches, o^c^. 

Sandwiches? Then you are going! Why, on 
earth, — I can't understand ! 

Rebecca. 

Dear, you never can. Rosmershohn is too 
much for me. But how did you get on with 
Kroll? 



34 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

ROSMER. 

We have made it up. He has convinced me 
that the work of ennobUng men was several sizes 
too large for me — so I am going to let it alone — 

Rebecca {ivith her faint smile). 
There I almost think, dear, that you are wise. 

RosMER {as if annoyed) . 
What, so you don't believe in me either, Re- 
becca — you never did I \^Sits listlessly on chair. 

Rebecca. 
Not much, dear, when you are left to yourself — 
but I've another confession to make. 

RoSMER. 

What, another ? I really can't stand any more 
confessions just now 1 



ACT IV. ROSMERSHOLM. 35 

Rebecca {sitting close to hint) . 

It is only a little one. I bullied Beata into the 
mill-race — because of a wild uncontrollable — 
(RosMER moves uneasily.) Sit still, dear — un- 
controllable fancy — for you / 

RoSMER {goes and sits on sofa) . 

Oh, my goodness, Rebecca — you inustji't, you 
know ! 

\_He jumps up and down as if embarrassed. 

Rebecca. 

Don't be alarmed, dear, it is all over now. 
After living alone with you in solitude, when you 
showed me all your thoughts without reserve, — 
little by little, somehow the fancy passed off. I 
caught the Rosmer view of life badly, and dulness 
descended on my soul as an extinguisher upon one 



36 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

of our Northern dips. The Rosmer view of hfe is 
ennobhng, very — but hardly Uvely. And I've 
more yet to tell you. 

Rosmer {turning it off') . 
Isn't that enough for one evening? 

Rebecca {almost voiceless). 
No, dear. I have a Past — behind me ! 

Rosmer. 

Behind yonl How strange. I had an idea of 
that sort already. {Starts, as if in fear.) A joke ! 
{Sadly.) Ah, no — no, 1 must not give way to 
that/ Never mind the Past, Rebecca; I once 
thought that I had made the grand discovery that, 
if one is only virtuous, one will be happy. I see 
now it was too daring, too original — an immature 
dream. What bothers me is that I can't — some- 




" I have a Past — behind me ! 



ACT IV. ROSMERSHOLM. 39 

how I can't — believe entirely in you — I am not 
even sure that I have ennobled you so very much 
— isn't it terrible? 

Rebecca {wringing her hands) . 
Oh, this killing doubt ! {Looks darkly at him.) 
Is there anything /can do to convince you? 

RoSMER {as if impelled to speak against his will) . 
Yes, one thing — only I'm afraid you wouldn't 
see it in the same light. And yet I must mention 
it. It is like this. I want to recover faith in my 
mission, in my power to ennoble human souls. 
And, as a logical thinker, this I cannot do now, 
unless — well, unless you jump into the mill-race, 
too, like Beata ! 

Rebecca {takes ii-p her antimacassar, with com- 
posm-e, and puts it on her head) . 
Anything to oblige you. 



40 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

RoSMER {springs up). 
What? You really ivtll / You are su7'e you 
don't mind? Then, Rebecca, I will go further. 
I will even go — yes — as far as you go yourself ! 

Rebecca {bows her head towards his breasi). 

You will see me off? Thanks. Now you are 
indeed an Ibsenite. \_Smiles almost impei'ceptibly, 

RosMER {cautiously). 
I said as far as yoti go. I don't commit rriyself 
further than that. Shall we go ? 

Rebecca. 
First tell me this. Are you going with me, or 
am / going with you ? 

RoSMER. 

A subtle psychological point — but we have not 



ACT IV. ROSMERSHOLM. 41 

time to think it out here. We will discuss it as 

we go along. Come ! 

[RosMER takes his hat and stick, Rebecca her 
reticule, with sandwiches. They go out ha7id- 
in-hand through the door, which they leave 
open. The room (as is not unconunon with 
7'ooms in Norway) is left empty. Then 
Madam Helseth enters through another door. 

Madam Helseth. 

The cab, Miss — not here ! {Looks out.) Out 
together — at this time of night — upon my — not 
on the garden-seat? {Looks out of window.) My 
goodness ! what is that white thing on the bridge 
— the Horse at last ! {Shrieks aloud.) And those 
two sinful creatures running home ! 

Enter Rosmer and Rebecca, out of breath. 



42 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. i. 

RosMER {sca7rely able to get the words out) . 
It's no use, Rebecca — we must put it off till 
another evening. We can't be expected to jump 
off a footbridge which already has a White Horse 
on it. And, if it comes to that, why should we 
jump at all? I know now that I really have en- 
nobled you, which was all / wanted. What would 
be the good of recovering faith in my mission at 
the bottom of a mill-pond ? No, Rebecca — {lays 
his hand on her head) — there is no judge over 
us, and therefore — 

Rebecca {in terrupting gravel}^ . 
We will bind ourselves over in our own recog- 
nisances to come up for judgment when called 
upon. 

[Madam Helseth holds on to a chair-back. 
Rebecca finishes the antimacassar calmly as 
curtain falls . 



No. II. 
NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 

(Et Dikkisvoet). 




" Boo ! " 



No. II. 
NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 

{Et Dikkisvoet) . 

ACT I. 

A Room tastefully filled with cheap Art-fuiiiiture. 
Gimcracks in an etagere ; a festoon of chenille 
monkeys hanging from the gaselier. Japanese 
fajis, skeletons, cotton-wool spiders, frogs, and 
lizards, scattered everywhere about. Drain-pipes 
with tall dyed grasses. A porcelain stove deco- 
rated with transfei^able pictures. Shozvily- bound 
books in book-case. Window. The Visitors^ bell 
rings in the hall outside. The hall-door is heard 

to open, and then to shut. Presently Nora 
45 



46 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. ii. 

walks in with parcels ; a Porter cai'ries a large 
Christ?nas-tree after her — which he puts down. 
Nora gives him a shilling — and he goes out 
grumbling. Nora hums contentedly, and eats 
maca7'oons. Then Helmer puts his head out of 
his Manager'' s roo7n, and Nora hides macaroons 
cautiously. 

Helmer {playfully). 

Is that my little squirrel twittering — that my 
lark frisking in here? 

Nora. 

Ess ! {To herself.) I have only been married 
eight years, so these marital amenities have not 
yet had time to pall ! 

Helmer {threatening with his finger). 

I hope the little bird has surely not been dig- 
ging its beak into any macaroons, eh ? 



ACT I. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 47 

Nora {bolting one, and wiping hei'- moutli) . 

No, most certainly not. {To herself.') The 
worst of being so babyish is — one does have to 
tell such a lot of taradiddles! {To H.) See 
what /'ve bought — it's been such fun ! \_Hunis. 

Helmer {inspecting parcels) . 

H'm ■ — rather an expensive little lark ! 

\_Takes her playfully by the ear. 

Nora. 

Little birds like to have a flutter occasionally. 

Which reminds me — {Plays with his coat-buttons.) 

I'm such a simple ickle sing — but if you are 

thinking of giving me a Christmas present, make 

it cash ! 

Helmer. 

Just like your poor father, he always asked me 



48 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. ii. 

to make it cash — he never made any himself! 
It's heredity, I suppose. Well! — well! 

[Goes back to his Bank. Nora goes on 
humming. 

Enter Mrs. Linden {doubtfully). 
Nora. 
What, Christina — why, how old you look ! But 
then you are poor. I'm not. Torvald has just 
been made a Bank Manager. ( Tidies the room.) 
Isn't it really wonderfully delicious to be well off? 
But, of course, you wouldn't know. We were poor 
once, and, do you know, when Torvald was ill, I 
— {tossing her head) — though I am such a frivo- 
lous little squirrel, and all that, I actually borrowed 
;^30o for him to go abroad. Wasn't that clever? 
Tra-la-la ! I shan't tell you who lent it. I didn't 
even tell Torvald. I am such a mere baby I 
don't tell him everything. I tell Dr. Rank, though. 



ACT I. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 49 

Oh, I'm so awfully happy I should like to shout, 
" Dash it all ! " 

Mrs. Linden {stroking her hair) . 

Do — it is a natural and innocent outburst — 
you are such a child ! But I am a widow, and 
want employment. Do you think your husband 
could find me a place as clerk in his Bank? 
(^Proudly.) I am an excellent knitter ! 

Nora. 

That would really be awfully funny. {To Hel- 
MER, who enters^ Torvald, this is Christina; she 
wants to be a clerk in your Bank — do let her! 
She thinks such a lot of you. {To herself^ An- 
other taradiddle ! 

Helmer. 
She is a sensible woman, and deserves encourage- 



50 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. ii. 

ment. Come along, Mrs. Linden, and we'll see 
what we can do for you. 

\_He goes out thj^oiigh the hall with Mrs. L., 
and the fj^ont doo?^ is heard to slam after 
them. 

Nora {opens door, and calls). 
Now, Emmy, Ivar, and Bob come in and have a 
romp with Mamma — we will play hide-and-seek. 
{She gets under the table, smiling in quiet satisfac- 
tion ; Krogstad enters — Nora pounces out upon 
him.) Boo ! . . . Oh, I beg your pardon. I 
don't do this kind of thing generally — though I 
may be a little silly ! 

Krogstad {politely). 
Don't mention it. I called because I happened 
to see your husband go out with Mrs. Linden — 
from which, being a person of considerable pene- 
tration, I infer that he is about to give her my 



ACT I. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 51 

post at the Bank. Now, as you owe me the bal- 
ance of ^300, for which I hold your acknowledg- 
ment, you will see the propriety of putting a stop 
to this little game at once. 

Nora. 

But I don't at all — not a Httle wee bit ! I'm 
so childish, you know — why should I? 

\_Sitting up7'ight on carpet. 

Krogstad. 

I will try to make it plain to the meanest capac- 
ity. When you came to me for the loan, I natu- 
rally required some additional security. Your 
father, being a shady Government official, without 
a penny — for, if he had possessed one, he would, 
presumably, have left it to you — without a penny, 
then, I, as a cautious man of business, insisted 



52 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. ii. 

upon having his signature as a surety. Oh, we 
Norwegians are sharp fellows ! 

Nora. 
Well, you ^<5'/ Papa's signature, didn't you? 

Krogstad. 
Oh, I got it right enough. Unfortunately, it was 
dated three days after his decease — now, how do 
you account for that? 

Nora. 

How? Why, as poor Papa was dead, and 
couldn't sign, I signed /?r him, that's all ! Only 
somehow I forgot to put the date back. That's 
how. Didn't I teit you I was a silly, unbusinesslike 
little thing? It's very simple. 

Krogstad. 
Very — but what you did amounts to forgery. 



ACT I. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 53 

notwithstanding. 1 happen to know, because I'm 
a lawyer, and have done a httle in the forging way 
myself. So, to come to the point — if / get kicked 
out, I shall not go alone ! \_He bows, and goes out. 

Nora. 

It can't be wrong ! Why, no one but Krogstad 
would have been taken in by it ! If the Law says 
it's wrong, the Law's a goose — a bigger goose 
than poor little me even ! {To Helmer, who 
enters,) Oh, Torvald, how you made me jump ! 

Helmer. 

Has anybody called? (Nora shakes her head.) 
Oh, my little squirrel mustn't tell naughty whoppers ! 
Why, I just met that fellow Krogstad in the hall. 
He's been asking you to get me to take him back 
— now, hasn't he ? 



54 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. ii. 

Nora {walking aboicf) . 
Do just see how pretty the Christmas-tree looks ! 

Helmer. 
Never mind the tree — I want to have this out 
about Krogstad. I can't take him back, because 
many years ago he forged a name. As a lawyer, 
a close observer of human nature, and a Bank 
Manager, I have remarked that people who forge 
names seldom or never confide the fact to their 
children — which inevitably brings moral contagion 
into the entire family. From which it follows, 
logically, that Krogstad has been poisoning his 
children for years by acting a part, and is morally 
lost. {Stretches out his hands to her.^ I can't 
bear a morally lost Bank-cashier about me ! 

Nora. 
But you never thought of dismissing him till 
Christina came ! 



ACT I. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 55 

Helmer. 

H'm ! I've got some business to attend to — so 
good-bye, little lark ! 

[ Goes into office and shuts door. 

Nora [pale with terror) . 

If Krogstad poisons his children because he once 
forged a name, I must be poisoning Emmy, and 
Bob, and Ivar, because / forged Papa's signature ! 
(yShort pause ; she raises her head proudly^ After 
all, if I am a doll, I can still draw a logical induc- 
tion ! I mustn't play with the children any m^ore — 
{hotly) — I don't care — I shall, though ! Who 
cares for Krogstad? 

\_She makes a face, choking with suppressed tears, 
as Curtain falls . 



ACT 11. 

The Room, with the cheap Art-furniture as before 
— except that the candles on the Christmas-tree 
have guttered down and appear to have been 
lately blown out. The cotton-wool frogs and 
the chenille monkeys are disarranged, and there 
are walking things on the sofa. Nora alone. 

Nora {putting on a cloak and taking it off again) . 

Bother Krogstad ! There, I won't think of him. 
I'll only think of the costume ball at Consul Sten- 
borg's over-head, to-night, where I am to dance 
the Tarantella all alone, dressed as a Capri fisher- 
girl. It struck Torvald that, as I am a matron with 
three children, my performance might amuse the 

Consul's guests, and, at the same time, increase his 
56 



ACT II. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 57 

connection at the Bank. Torvald /j- so practical. 
i^To Mrs. Linden, who comes in with a large cai'd- 
board box.) Ah, Christina, so you have brought 
in my old costume? Would you mind, as my 
husband's new Cashier, just doing up the trimming 
for me ? 

Mrs. Linden. 

Not at all — is it not part of my regular duties? 
{Sewing.) Don't you think, Nora, that you see a 
Httle too much of Dr. Rank ? 

Nora. 

Oh, I couldn't see too much of Dr. Rank ! He 
is so amusing — always talking about his com- 
plaints, and heredity, and all sorts of indescribably 
funny things. Go away now, dear ; I hear Torvald. 

[Mrs. Linden goes. Enter Torvald froin the 
Manager's room. Nora runs trippingly to him. 



58 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. ii. 

Nora (^coaxing). 
Oh, Torvald, if only you won't dismiss Krogstad, 
you can't think how your little lark would jump 
about and twitter ! 

Helmer. 
The inducement would be stronger but for the 
fact that, as it is, the little lark is generally engaged 
in that particular occupation. And I really must 
get rid of Krogstad. If I didn't, people would 
say I was under the thumb of my little squirrel 
here, and then Krogstad and I knew each other 
in early youth ; and when two people knew each other 
in early youth — {a short pause) — h'm ! Besides, 
he will address me as, "I say, Torvald" — which 
causes me most painful emotion ! He is tactless, 
dishonest, familiar, and morally ruined — altogether 
not at all the kind of person to be a Cashier in a 
Bank hke mine. 



ACT II. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 59 

Nora. 

But he writes in scurrilous papers, — he is on the 
staff of the Norwegian Punch. If you dismiss him, 
he may write nasty things about you, as wicked 
people did about poor dear Papa ! 

Helmer. 

Your poor dear Papa was not impeccable — far 
from it. I am — which makes all the difference. 
I have here a letter giving Krogstad the sack. 
One of the conveniences of living close to the 
Bank is, that I can use the housemaids as Bank- 
messengers. {Goes to door and calls.) Ellen! 
{Enter parlourmaid.) Take that letter — there 
is no answer. (Ellen takes it and goes.) That's 
settled — so now, Nora, as I am going to my 
private room, it will be a capital opportunity for 



6o MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. ii. 

you to practise the tambourine — thump away, 
Uttle lark, the doors are double ! 

\_N0d5 to her and goes in, shutting door. 

Nora {^stroking Jierface) . 

How ai7i I to get out of this mess ! (^ ring at 
the Visitors' bell.) Dr. Rank's ring ! He shall 
help me out of it ! (Dr. Rank appeaj^s in door- 
way, hanging 7/p his great-coat.) Dear Dr. Rank, 
how are you? \_Takes both his hands. 

Rank {sitting down near the stove) . 
I am a miserable, hypochondriacal wretch — 
that's what / am. And why am I doomed to be 
dismal? Why? Because my father died of a fit 
of the blues ! Is that fair — I put it to you ? 

Nora. 
Do try to be funnier than that ! See, I will show 




A poor fellow with both feet in the grave is not the best authority 
on the fit of silk stockings." 



ACT II. NORA; OjR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 63 

you the flesh-coloured silk tights that I am to wear 
to-night — it will cheer you up. But you must 
only look at the feet — well, you may look at the 
rest if you're good. Aren't they lovely? Will 
they fit me, do you think? 

Rank {gloomily). 

A poor fellow with both feet in the grave is not 
the best authority on the fit of silk stockings. I 
shall be food for worms before long — I know I 
shall ! 

Nora. 

You mustn't really be so frivolous ! Take that ! 
{She hits him lightly on the ear with the stockings ; 
then hums a little.) I want you to do me a great 
service. Dr. Rank. {Rolling up stockings?) I 
always liked you. I love Torvald most, of course 



64 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. ii. 

— but, somehow, I'd rather spend my time with 
you — you are so amusing ! 

Rank. 

If I am, can't you guess why? (^ short silence^ 
Because I love you ! You can't pretend you didn't 
know it ! 

Nora. 

Perhaps not — but it was really too clumsy of 
you to mention it just as I was about to ask a 
favour of you ! It was in the worst taste ! ( With 
dignity.) You must not imagine because I joke 
with you about silk stockings, and tell you things I 
never tell Torvald, that I am therefore without the 
most delicate and scrupulous self-respect ! I am 
really quite a good little doll, Dr. Rank, and now — 
{sits in rocking-chair and seniles) — now I shan't 
ask you what I was going to ! 

[Ellen comes in with a card. 



ACT II. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 65 

Nora {terrified). 
Oh, my goodness ! [Fufs it i7i her pocket. 

Dr. Rank. 

Excuse my easy Norwegian pleasantry — but — 
h'm — anything disagreeable up ? 

Nora {to herself). 

Krogstad's card ! I must tell another whopper ! 
{To Rank.) No, nothing, only — only my new 
costume. I want to try it on here. I always do 
try on my dresses in the drawing-room — it's 
cosier, you know. So go in to Torvald and amuse 
him till I'm ready. 

[Rank goes into Helmer's room, and Nora bolts 
the door upon hi?7t, as Krogstad enters from 
hall, in a fur cap. 



66 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. ii. 

Krogstad. 

Well, I've got the sack, and so I came to see 
YiO'N you are getting on. I mayn't be a nice man, 
but — {with feeling) — I have a heart ! And, as 
I don't intend to give up the forged I.O.U. unless 
I'm taken back, I was afraid you might be contem- 
plating suicide, or something of that kind ; and so 
I called to tell you that, if I were you, I wouldn't. 
Bad thing for the complexion, suicide, and silly, 
too, because it wouldn't mend matters in the least. 
{Kindly.) You must not take this affair too seri- 
ously, Mrs. Helmer. Get your husband to settle 
it amicably by taking me back as Cashier ; then I 
shall soon get the whip-hand of him, and we shall 
all be as pleasant and comfortable as possible 
together ! 



ACT II. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE, 67 

Nora. 
Not even that prospect can tempt me ! Besides, 
Torvald wouldn't have you back at any price now ! 

Krogstad. 
All right, then. I have here a letter, telling 
your husband all. I will take the liberty of drop- 
ping it in the letter-box at your hall-door as I go 
out. I'll wish you good evening ! 

\^He goes out; presently the dull sound of a thick 
letter dropping into a wire box is heard, 

Nora {softly, and hoarsely). 
He's done it ! How am I to prevent Torvald 
from seeing it ? 

Helmer {inside the door, rattling) . 
Hasn't my lark changed its dress yet? (Nora 
unbolts door.) What — so you are 710 1 in fancy 



68 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no= ii. 

costume, after all? {Enters with Rank.) Are 
there any letters for me in the box there ? 

Nora {voicelessly). 
None — not even a postcard ! Oh, Torvald, 
don't, please, go and look — promise me you won't ! 
I do assure you there isn't a letter ! And I've 
forgotten the Tarantella you taught me — do let's 
run over it. I'm so afraid of breaking down — 
promise me not to look at the letter-box. I can't 
dance unless you do. 

Helmer {standing still, on his way to the lette?'-dox). 

I am a man of strict business habits, and some 
powers of observation ; my little squirrel's assur- 
ances that there is nothing in the box, combined 
with her obvious anxiety that I should not go and 
see for myself, satisfy me that it is indeed empty, 
in spite of the fact that I have not invariably found 



ACT IT. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 69 

her a strictly truthful little dicky-bird. There — 
there. {Sits down to piano. ^ Bang away on your 
tambourine, little squirrel — dance away, my own 
lark! 

Nora (^dancing, with a long gay shawl). 
Just won't the little squirrel ! Faster — faster ! 
Oh^ I do feel so gay ! We will have some cham- 
pagne for dinner, tvon'tw^Q, Torvald? 

\^Dances with more and more abandonment. 

Helmer {after addressing frequent remarks in 
correction') . 

Come, come — not this awful wildness ! I don't 
like to see quite such a larky little lark as this . . . 
Really it is time you stopped ! 

Nora {Jier hair coi7iing down as she dances more 
wildly still, a?id swings the tamboiwine) . 
I can't ... I can't ! {To herself as she 



70 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. ii. 

dances^ I've only thirty-one hours left to be a 
bird in ; and after that — {shuddering) — after thaf^ 
Krogstad will let the cat out of the bag ! 

\_Curtain. 



ACT III. 

The same Room — except that the sofa has been 
slightly moved, and one of the Japanese cotton- 
wool frogs has fallen into the fire-place. Mrs. 
Linden sits and reads a book — but without 
undei's landing a single line. 

Mrs. Linden (flaying down book, as a light tread is 

heard outside'). 

Here he is at last ! (Krogstad comes in, and 

stands in the doorway.) Mr. Krogstad, I have 

given you a secret rendezvous in this room, because 

it belongs to my employer. Mr. Helmer, who has 

lately discharged you. The etiquette of Norway 

permits these slight freedoms on the part of a 

female Cashier. 

71 



y^ MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. li. 

Krogstad. 

It does. Are we alone? (Nora is heard ove?-- 
head dancing the Tai-antella.') Yes, I hear Mrs. 
Helmer's fairy footfall above. She dances the Tar- 
antella now — by-and-by she will dance to another 
tune ! {Changing his lone.) I don't exactly know 
why you should wish to have this interview — after 
jilting me as you did, long ago, though? 

Mrs. Linden. 
Don't you? /do. I am a widow — a Norwe- 
gian widow. And it it has occurred to me that 
there may be a nobler side to your nature some- 
where — though you have not precisely the best of 
reputations. 

Krogstad. 
Right. I am a forger, and a money-lender; I 
am on the staff of the Norwegian Punch — a most 



ACT III. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 73 

scurrilous paper. More^ I have been blackmailing 
Mrs. Helmer by trading on her fears hke a low 
cowardly cur. But^ in spite of all that — {clasping 
his hcDicis) — there are the makings of a fine man 
about me yet, Christina ! 

Mrs. Linden. 

I believe you — at least, I'll chance it. I want 
some one to care for, and I'll marry you ! 

Krogstad {^suspiciously'). 

On condition, I suppose, that I suppress the 
letter denouncing Mrs. Helmer? 

Mrs. Linden. 

How can you think so? I am her dearest friend ; 
but I can still see her faults, and it is my firm 
opinion that a sharp lesson will do her all the good 
in the world. She is much too comfortable. So 



74 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. ii. 

leave the letter in the box, and come home with 
me. 

Krogstad. 

I am wildly happy ! Engaged to the female 
Cashier of the Manager who has discharged me, 
our future is bright and secure ! 

\_He goes out ; and Mrs. Linden sets the furni- 
ture straight; presently a noise is heard out- 
side, and Helmer enters, dragging Nora in. 
She is infancy dress, and he in an open black 
domino. 

Nora. 

I shan't ! It's too early to come away from such 
a nice party. I won't go to bed ! \^She whimpers. 

Helmer {tenderly^. 

There 'sh a naughty lil' larkie for you, Mrs. Linen ! 
Poshtively had to drag her 'way ! She'sh a capri- 




" Oh, you prillil squilliki 



ACT III. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 77 

cioiis lir girl — from Capri. 'Scuse me ! — 'fraid 
I've been and made a pun. Shan' 'cur again ! 
Shplendid champagne the Consul gave us — 'counts 
for it ! (ySits down, smi/ing.) Do you knit, Mrs. 
Cotton? ... You shouldn't. Never knit. 'Broider. 
(^Nodding to her, solemnly.) 'Member that. Al- 
waysh 'broider. More — {hiccoughing) — Oriental ! 
Gobblesh you ! — goo'ni ! 

Mrs. Linden. 

I only came in to — to see Nora's costume. 
Now I've seen it, I'll go. [_Goes out. 

Helmer. 

Awful bore that woman — hate boresh ! {Looks 
at Nora, then comes nearer.) Oh, you prillil squil- 
hkins, I do love you so ! Shomehow, I feel sho 
lively thishevenin' I 



78 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. ii. 

Nora {goes to other side of table). 
I won't have all that, Torvald ! 

Helmer. 
Why ? ain't you my lil' lark — ain't thish our lil' 
cage ? Ver-ze/^//, then. {A ring.) Rank ! con- 
found it all ! {Enter Dr. Rank.) Rank, dear old 
boy, you've been {hiccoughs) going it upstairs. 
Cap'tal champagne, eh ? 'Shamed of you. Rank ! 
\_He sits down on sofa, and closes his eyes gently. 

Rank. 

Did you notice it? {with pride.) It was almost 
incredible the amount I contrived to put away. 
But I shall suffer for it to-morrow {gloomily). 
Heredity again ! 1 wish I was dead ! I do. 

Nora. 
Don't apologise. Torvald was just as bad ; but 
he is always so good-tempered after champagne. 



ACT III. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 79 

Rank. 
Ah, well, I just looked in to say that I haven't 
long to live. Don't weep for me, Mrs. Helmer, it's 
chronic — and hereditary too. Here are my P.P.C. 
cards. I'm a fading flower. Can you oblige me 
with a cigar? 

Nora {with a suppressed smile) . 
Certainly. Let me give you a hght? 
[Rank lights his cigar, after several ineffectual 
attempts, and goes out, 

H ELMER {compassionately) . 
Poo' old Rank — he'sh very bad to-ni' ! {^Pulls 
himself together.) But I forgot — Bishness — I 
mean, bu-si-ness — mush be 'tended to. I'll go 
and see if there are any letters. {Goes to box.) 
Hallo ! someone's been at the lock with a hairpin 
— it's one o{ your hairpins ! \_Holding it out to her. 



8o MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. ii. 

Nora (^quickly). 

Not mine — one of Bob's, or Ivar's — they both 
wear hairpins ! 

Helmer {turning over letters absently) . 

You must break them of it — bad habit ! What 
a lot o' lettersh ! double usual quantity. ( Opens 
Krogstad's.) By Jove ! {Reads it and falls back 
completely sobered.) What have you got to say to 
this ? 

Nora {crying aloud). 
You shan't save me — let me go ! I won't be 
saved ! 

Helmer. 

Save you^ indeed ! Who's going to save Me ? 
You miserable httle criminal. {Annoyed.) Ugh 
— ugh! 



ACT III. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 8i 

Nora {jvith hardening expression). 

Indeed, Torvald, your singing-bird acted for the 
best ! 

Helmer. 

Singing-bird ! Your father was a rook — and 
you take after him. Heredity again ! You have 
utterly destroyed my happiness. ( Walks i^ound 
several times ^ Just as I was beginning to get on, 
too! 

Nora. 

I have — but I will go away and jump into the 
water. 

Helmer. 

What good will that do me ? People will say / 
had a hand in this business {bitteidy) . If you must 
forge, you might at least put your dates in cor- 
rectly ! But you never had any principle ! (^ 



82 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no.il 

ring^ The front-door bell ! {^A fat letter is seen 
to fall into the box ; Helmer takes it, opens it, sees 
enclosure, and embraces Nora.) Krogstad won't 
split. See, he returns the forged I.O.U. ! Oh, my 
poor little lark, what you must have gone through ! 
Come under my wing, my Httle scared song-bird 
. . . Eh? you won't! Why, what's the matter 
now ? 

Nora {ivith cold calm). 

I have wings of my own, thank you, Torvald, 
and I mean to use them ! 

Helmer. 
What — leave your pretty cage, and (^patheti- 
cally) the old cock bird, and the poor little inno- 
cent eggs ! 

Nora. 

Exactly. Sit down^, and we will talk it over first. 
{Slowly.) Has it ever struck you that this is the 



ACT III. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. %2> 

first time you and I have ever talked seriously 
together about serious things? 

Helmer. 
Come, I do like that ! How on earth could we 
talk about serious things when your mouth was 
always full of macaroons? 

Nora {^shakes he7' head^. 
Ah, Torvald, the mouth of a mother of a family 
should have more solemn things in it than maca- 
roons ! I see that now, too late. No, you have 
wronged me. So did Papa. Both of you called 
me a doll, and a squirrel, and a lark ! You might 
have made something of me — and instead of that, 
you went and made too much of me — oh, you 

did! 

Helmer. 

Well, you didn't seem to object to it, and really 

I don't exactly see what it is you do want ! 



84 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. ik 

Nora. 
No more do I — that is what I have got to find 
out. If I had been properly educated, I should 
have known better than to date poor Papa's signa- 
ture three days after he died. Now I must educate 
myself. I have to gain experience, and get clear 
about religion, and law, and things, and whether 
Society is right or I am — and I must go away and 
never come back any more till I am educated ! 

H ELMER. 

Then you may be away some Httle time ? And 
what's to become of me and the eggs meanwhile ? 

Nora. 
That, Torvald, is entirely your own affair. I 
have a higher duty than that toward you and the 
eggs. {Looking solemnly iLpward.) I mean my 
duty towards Myself! 



ACT III. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 85 

Helmer. 
And all this because — in a momentary annoy- 
ance at finding myself in the power of a discharged 
Cashier who calls me " I say Torvald," I expressed 
myself with ultra- Gilbertian frankness ! You talk 

like a silly child ! 

Nora. 

Because my eyes are opened, and I see my 

position with the eyes of Ibsen. I must go away 

at once, and begin to educate myself. 

Helmer. 
May I ask how you are going to set about it ? 

Nora. 
Certainly. I shall begin — yes, I shall begin 
with a course of the Nonvegian theatres, li that 
doesn't take the frivohty out of me, I don't really 
know what will f 

\_She gets her bonnet and ties it tightly. 



86 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. it. 

Helmer. 

Then you are really going? And you'll never 

think about me and the eggs any more ! Oh, 

Nora ! 

Nora. 

Indeed, I shall, occasionally — as strangers. {^She 
puts on a shawl sadly, and fetches her dressing- 
bag^ If I ever do come back, the greatest mir- 
acle of all will have to happen. Good-bye ! 

\_She goes out through the hall ; the front-door is 
heard to bang loudly. 

Helmer {sinking on a chair). 
The room empty? Then she must be gone ! 
Yes, my little lark has flown ! ( The dull sound of 
an unskilled latchkey is heard trying the lock; 
presently the door opens, and Nora, with a some- 
what foolish expi^ession, reappears.) What? back 
already ! Then you are educated ? 



ACT III. NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE. 87 

Nora {puts down dressing-bag). 
No, Torvald, not yet. Only, you see, I found I 
had only threepence-halfpenny in my purse, and 
the Norwegian theatres are all closed at this hour 
— and so I thought I wouldn't leave the cage till 
to-morrow — after breakfast. 

Helmer {as if to himself). 

The greatest miracle of all has happened. My 
little bird is not in the bush fust yet ! 

[Nora takes down a showily bound dictionary 

from the shelf and begins her education; 

Helmer fetches a bag of macaroons, sits near 

her, a7id tenders one humbly. A pause. Nora 

repulses it, proudly. He offers it again. She 

snatches at it suddenly, still without looking 

at him, and nibbles it thoughtfully as Curtain 

falls. 

THE end. 



No. III. 
HEDDA GABLER 




" I am a gay Norwegian dog." 



No. III. 
HEDDA GABLER. 

ACT I. 

Scene — A Sitting-room cheerfully decorated in 
dark colours. Broad doorway^ hung with black 
crape, in the wall at back, leading to a back 
Drawing-room, in which, above a sofa in black 
horsehoAr, hangs a posthu7nous portrait of the 
late General Gabler. O71 the piano is a hand- 
some pall. Through the glass panes of the back 
Drawing-room window are seen a dead wall 
and a cemetery. Settees, sofas, chairs, &^c., 
handsomely upholstered in black bombazine, and 

studded with small round nails. Bouquets of 
91 



92 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. iii. 

immortelles and dead gt'asses are lying every- 
where about. 

Enter Aunt Julie {a good-natured looking lady 
in a smart hat). 

Aunt Julie. 
Well, I declare, if I believe George or Hedda 
are up yet ! {^Enter George Tesman, humming, 
stout, careless, spectacled?) Ah, my dear boy, I 
have called before breakfast to inqinre how you 
and Hedda are after returning late last night from 
your long honeymoon. Oh, dear me, yes; am I 
not your old Aunt, and are not these attentions 
usual in Norway ? 

George. 

Good Lord, yes ! My six months' honeymoon 
has been quite a little travelling scholarship, eh? 
I have been examining archives. Think of M^// 



ACT I. HEDDA G ABLER. 93 

Look here, I'm going to write a book all about the 
domestic interests of the Cave-dwellers during the 
Deluge. I'm a clever young Norwegian man of 
letters, eh? 

x\uNT Julie. 
Fancy your knowing about that too ! Now, 
dear me, thank Heaven ! 

George. 
Let me, as a dutiful Norwegian nephew, untie 
that smart, showy hat of yours. (^Unties it, and 
pais her under the chin.) Well, to be sure, you 
have got yourself really up, — fancy that ! 

\_He puts hat on chair close to table. 

Aunt Julie {giggling). 
It was for Hedda's sake — to go out walking 
with her in. (Hedda approaches froju the back- 
room ; she is pallid, zvith cold, open, steel-grey eyes ; 



94 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. hi. 

her hair is not very thick, but what there is of it is 
an agreeable medium brown.) Ah, dear Hedda ! 
[^She attempts to cuddle her. 

Hedda {shrinking back). 

Ugh, let me go, do ! {Looking at Aunt Julie's 
hat^ Tesman, you must really tell the house- 
maid not to leave her old hat about on the draw- 
ing-room chairs. Oh, is it your hat? Sorry I 
spoke, I'm sure ! 

Aunt Julie {annoyed). 

Good gracious, httle Mrs. Hedda ; my nice new 
hat that I bought to go out walking with you in ! 

George {patting her on the back). 

Yes, Hedda, she did, and the parasol too ! 
Fancy, Aunt Julie always positively thinks of every- 
thing, eh? 



ACT I. HEDDA G ABLER. 95 

Hedda {coldly). 

You hold yoicr tongue. Catch me going out 

walking with your aimt ! One doesn't do such 

things. 

George {beaming). 

Isn't she a charming woman? Such fascinating 
manners ! My goodness, eh ? Fancy that ! 

Aunt Julie. 
Ah, dear George, you ought indeed to be happy 
— but. {brings out a flat package wrapped in news- 
paper) look here, my dear boy ! 

George {opens it). 
What? my dear old morning shoes ! my slippers ! 
{Breaks down?) This is positively too touching, 
Hedda, eh? Do you remember how badly I 
wanted them all the honeymoon? Come and just 
have a look at them — you may ! 



96 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. hi. 

Hedda. 
Bother your old slippers and your old aunt too ! 
(Aunt Julie goes out annoyed, followed by George, 
still thanki?ig her warmly for the slippers ; Hedda 
yaivns ; George comes back and places his old 
slippei's reverently on the table?) Why, here comes 
Mrs. Elvsted — another early caller ! She had 
irritating hair, and went about making a sensation 
with it — an old flame of yours, I've heard. 

\_Enter Mrs. Elvsted ; she is pretty and gentle, 
y with copious wavy 7vhite-gold hair and round 

pi'ominent eyes, and the manner of a frightened 

rabbit. 

Mrs. Elvstead {nervous). 
Oh, please, I'm so perfectly in despair. Ejlert 
Lovborg, you know, who was our Tutor ; he's 
written such a large new book. I inspired him. 



ACT I. HEDDA G ABLER. 97 

Oh, I know I don't look like it — but I did — he 
told me so. And, good gracious, now he's in this 
dangerous wicked town all alone, and he's a re- 
formed character, and I'm so frightened about 
him ; so, as the wife of a Sheriff twenty years 
older than me, I came up to look after Mr. 
Lovborg. Do ask him here — then I can meet 
him. You will ? How perfectly lovely of you ! 
My husband's so fond of him ! 

Hedda. 

George, go and write an invitation at once ; do • 
you hear? (George looks around for his slippers, 
takes the7ii up and goes out.) Now we can talk, 
my little Thea. Do you remember how I used 
to pull your hair when we met on the stairs, and 
say I would scorch it off? Seeing people with 
copious hair always does irritate me. 



98 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. hi. 

Mrs. Elvsted. 

Goodness, yes, you were always so playful and 
friendly, and I was so afraid of you. I am still. 
And please, I've run away from my husband. 
Everything around him was distasteful to me. 
And Mr. Lovborg and I were comrades — he was 
dissipated, and I got a sort of power over him, and 
he made a real person out of me — which I wasn't 
before,, you know; but, oh, I do hope I'm real 
now. He talked to me and taught me to think — 
chiefly of him. So, when Mr. Lovborg came here, 
naturally I came too. There was nothing else to 
do ! And fancy, there is another woman whose 
shadow still stands between him and me ! She 
wanted to shoot him once, and so, of course, he 
can never forget her. I wish I knew her name — 
perhaps it was that red-haired opera-singer ? 



ACT I. HEDDA GABLER. 99 

Hedda {with cold self-command). 

Very likely — but nobody does that sort of thing 
here. Hush ! Run away now. Here comes Tes- 
man with Judge Brack. (Mrs. Elvsted goes out; 
George comes in with Judge Brack, tvho is a short 
and elastic gentleman, with a round face, cai'e- 
fully brushed hair, and distinguished profile.) 
How awfully funny you do look by daylight, 
Judge ! 

Brack {holding his hat and dropping his eye- 
glass) . 

Sincerest thanks. Still the same graceful man- 
ners, dear little Mrs. Hed — Tesman ! I came to 
invite dear Tesman to a little bachelor-party to 
celebrate his return from his long honeymoon. It 
is customary in Scandinavian society. It will be a 
lively affair, for I am a gay Norwegian dog. 



loo MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. hi. 

George. 
Asked out — without my wife ! Think of that ! 
Eh? Oh, dear me, yes, /'ll come ! 

Brack. 
By the way, Lovborg is here ; he has written a 
wonderful book, which has made a quite extraor- 
dinary sensation. Bless me, yes ! 

George. 
Lovborg — fancy ! Well, I am — glad. Such 
marvellous gifts ! And I was so painfully certain 
he had gone to the bad. Fancy that, eh ! But 
what will become of him now, poor fellow, eh? 
I am so anxious to know ! 

Brack. 

Well, he may possibly put up for the Professor- 
ship against you, and, though you are an uncom- 



ACT I. HEDDA GABLER. loi 

monly clever man of letters — for a Norwegian — 
it's not wholly improbable that he may cut you 
out ! 

George. 

But, look here, good Lord, Judge Brack ! — 
{gesticulating) — that would show an incredible 
want of consideration for me ! I married on my 
chance of getting that Professorship. A man like 
Lovborg, too, who hasn't even been respectable, 
eh? One doesn't do such things as that! 

Brack. 

Really? You forget we are all realistic and 
unconventional persons here, and do all kinds of 
odd things. But don't worry yourself! 

\^He goes ont. 

George {to Heddd). 
Oh, I say, Hedda, what's to become of our 



I02 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. hi. 

Fairyland now, eh? We can't have a Hveried 
servant, or give dinner-parties, or have a horse 
for riding. Fancy that ! 

Hedda {slowly, and wearily). 

No, we shall really have to set up as Fairies 
in reduced circumstances, now. 

George {cheering up). 

Still, we shall see Aunt Julie every day, and that 
will be something, and I've got back my old 
slippers. We shan't be altogether without some 
amusements, eh? 

Hedda {crosses the flooi'). 

Not while I have one thing to amuse myself 
with, at all events. 



ACT I. HEDDA G ABLER. 103 

George {beaming with joy) . 

Oh, Heaven be praised and thanked for that ! 
My goodness, so you have ! And what may that 
be, Hedda, eh? 

Hedda (yat the dooiway, with suppressed scorji). 

Yes, George, you have the old sUppers of the 
attentive Aunt, and I have the horse-pistols of 
the deceased General ! 

George {in an agony). 
The pistols ! Oh, my goodness ! what pistols ? 

Hedda {with cold eyes). 

General Gabler's pistols — same which I shot — 
{recollecting herself) — no, that's Thackeray, not 
Ibsen — a very different person. 

\_She goes through the back D7'awing-room. 



I04 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iii. 

George {at doorway^ shouting after hei-). 

Dearest Hedda, not those dangerous things, eh ? 
Why, they have never once been known to shoot 
straight yet ! Don't ! Have a catapult. For my 
sake, have a catapult! \_Ctirtain. 



ACT II. 

Scene — The cheerful dark Drawi?ig-room. It is 
afternoon. Hedda stands loading a revolver in 
the back Drawing-room. 

Hedda {looking out, and shouting). 

How do you do, Judge? {Aims at hijn.) Mind 
yourself ! \_She fires. 

Brack {entering). 

What the devil ! Do you usually take pot-shots 
at casual visitors ? \_An7toyed. 

Hedda. 

Invariably, when they come by the back-garden. 
It is my unconventional way of intimating that I 



io6 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. hi. 

am at home. One does do these things in reahstic 
dramas, you know. And I was only aiming at the 
blue sky. 

Brack. 
Which accounts for the condition of my hat. 
(^Exhibiting it.) Look here — riddled! 

Hedda. 
Couldn't help myself. I am so horribly bored 
with Tesman. Everlastingly to be with a profes- 
sional person ! 

Brack {^sympathetically) . 
Our excellent Tesman is certainly a bit of a 
bore. {Looks searchingly at her.) What on earth 
made you marry him ? 

Hedda. 
Tired of dancing, my dear, that's all. And then 



HEDDA GABLER. 



107 



I used Tesman to take me home from parties ; 
and we saw this villa ; and I said I liked it, and 
so did he ; and so we found some common ground, 
and here we are, do you see ! And I loathe Tes- 
man, and I don't even like the villa now ; and I 
do feel the want of an entertaining companion so ! 

Brack. 

Try me. Just the kind of three-cornered ar- 
rangement that I like. Let me be the third person 
in the compartment — {confidentially) — the tried 
friend, and, generally speaking, cock of the walk ! 

Hedda {audibly drawing in her breath). 

I cannot resist your polished way of putting 
things. We will conclude a triple alliance. But 
hush! — here comes Tesman. 

\_Enter George, with a niiniber of bo.oks under 
his arm. 



io8 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. m. 

George. 

Puff! I am hot, Hedda. I've been looking 

into Lovborg's new book. Wonderfully thoughtful 

— confound him ! But I must go and dress for 

your party, Judge. \He goes out. 

Hedda. 
I wish I could get Tesman to take to poUtics, 
Judge. Couldn't he be a Cabinet Minister, or 
something ? 

Brack. 
H'm ! 

\_A short pause ; both look at one another, with- 
out speaking. Enter George, in evening dress, 
with gloves. 

George. 
It is afternoon, and your party is at half-past 
seven — but I like to dress early. Fancy that ! 
And I am expecting Lovborg. 



ACT II. HEDDA GABLER. 109 

[EjLERT LoVRORG comes in fi'-om the hall ; he is 
worn and pale, with red patches on his cheek- 
bones, and wears an elegant pei'fectly new 
visiting- suit, and black gloves. 

George. 

Welcome ! {^Introduces him to Brack.) Listen 
— I have got your new book, but I haven't read 
it through yet. 

Lovborg. 

You needn't — it's rubbish. {Takes a packet of 
MSS. out.) This is7t''t. It's in three parts; the 
first about the civiHsing forces of the future, the 
second about the future of the civiHsing forces, 
and the third about the forces of the future civil- 
isation. I thought I'd read you a little of it this 
evening ? 



no MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iii. 

Brack ^/^^ George {hastily). 
Awfully nice of you — but there's a little party 
this evening — so sorry we can't stop ! Won't 
you come too? 

Hedda. 
No, he must stop and read it to me and Mrs. 
Elvsted instead. 

George. 
It would never have occurred to me to think of 
such clever things ! Are you going to oppose me 
for the Professorship, eh? 

LovBORG {modestly). 
No ; I shall only triumph over you in the popu- 
lar judgment — that's all ! 

George. 
Oh, is that all ? Fancy ! Let us go into the 
back drawing-room and drink cold punch. 



ACT II. HE DBA G ABLER. iii 

LoVBORG. 
Thanks — but I am a reformed character, and 
have renounced cold punch — it is poison. 

[George and Brack go into the back-room and 
drink punch, whilst Hedda shows Lovborg a 
photograph album in the front. 

Lovborg {slowly, in a low tone). 
Hedda Gabler ! how could you throw yourself 

away like this ! Oh, is that the Ortler Group ? 

Beautiful ! Have you forgotten how we used 

to sit on the settee together behind an illustrated 

paper, and — yes, very picturesque peaks 1 

told you all about how I had been on the loose ? 

Hedda. 
Now, none of that, here ! These are the Dolo- 
mites. — Yes, I remember ; it was a beautiful fas- 
cinating Norwegian intimacy — but it's over now. 



112 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iii. 

See, we spent a night in that Httle mountain village, 
Tesman and I ! 

LOVBORG. 

Did you, indeed? Do you remember that de- 
licious moment when you threatened to shoot me 
down — {tenderly) — I do ! 

Hedda {carelessly). 

Did I? I have done that to so many people. 
But now all that is passed, and you have found the 
lovehest consolation in dear, good, httle Mrs. Elv- 
sted— ah, here she is! {Enter Mrs. Elvsted.) 
Now, Thea, sit down and drink up a good glass of 
cold punch. Mr. Lovborg is going to have some. 
If you don't, Mr. Lovborg, George and the Judge 
will think you are afraid of taking too much if you 
once begin. 



ACTii. HEDDA G ABLER. 113 

Mrs. Elvsted. 

Oh, please, Hedda ! When I've inspired Mr. 
Lovborg so — good gracious ! don't make him 
drink cold punch ! 

Hedda. 

You see, Mr. Lovborg, our dear Kttle friend 
can't trust you ! 

Lovborg. 

So that is my comrade's faith in me ! {Glooni- 
ily.) /'ll show her if I am to be trusted or not. 
{He drinks a glass of punch.) Now Fll go to the 
Judge's party. I'll have another glass first. Your 
health, Thea ! So you came up to spy on me, eh? 
I'll drink the Sheriff's health — everybody's health ! 
\_He tries to get more punch. 



114 



MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. hi. 



Hedda {stopping him). 

No more now. You are going to a party, re- 
member. 

[George and Tesman come in ^rom back-room. 

LOVBORG. 

Don't be angry, Thea. I was fallen for a mo- 
ment. Now I'm up again ! (Mrs. Elvsted 
beams with delight}) Judge, I'll come to your 
party, as you are so pressing, and I'll read George 
my manuscript all the evening. I'll do all in my 
power to make that party go ! 

George. 
No ? fancy ! that will be amusing ! 

Hedda. 
There, go away, you wild rollicking creatures ! 



ACT II. HEDDA G ABLER. 115 

But Mr. Lovborg must be back at ten, to take 
dear Thea home ! 

Mrs. Elvsted. 

Oh, goodness, yes ! (/;/. concealed agony ^ Mr. 
Lovborg, I shan't go away till you do ! 

\_The tJwee men go out laughing meriHly ; the 
Act- drop is loivered for a minute; when it is 
raised, it is 7 a.m., and Mrs. Elvsted and 
Hedda are discovered sitting up, with rugs 
around them. 

Mrs. Elvsted {wearily). 

Seven in the morning, and Mr. Lovborg not 
here to take me home ji'<f/.^ what ca7i he be doing? 

Hedda {yawning). 

Reading to Tesman, with vine-leaves in his hair, 
I suppose. Perhaps he has got to the third part. 



ii6 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. hi. 

Mrs. Elvsted. 
Oh, do you really think so, Hedda? Oh, if I 
could but hope he was doing that ! 

Hedda. 
You silly Httle ninny ! I should like to scorch 
your hair off. Go to bed ! 

[Mrs. Elvsted goes. Enter George. 

George. 
I'm a little late, eh ? But we made stick a night 
of it. Fancy ! It was most amusing. Ejlert read 
his book to me — think of that ! Astonishing book ! 
Oh, we really had great fun ! I wish Pd written 
it. Pity he's so irreclaimable. 

Hedda. 
I suppose you mean he has more of the courage 
of Hfe than most people ? 



ACT II. HEDDA G ABLER. 117 

George. 
Good Lord ! He had the courage to get more 
drunk than most people. But, altogether, it was 
what you might almost call a Bacchanalian orgy. 
We finished up by going to have early coffee with 
some of these jolly chaps, and poor old Lovborg 
dropped his precious manuscript in the mud, and 
I picked it up — and here it is ! Fancy if anything 
were to happen to it ! He never could write it 
again. Wouldn't it be sad, eh? Don't tell any- 
one about it. 

\_He leaves the packet of MSS. on a chair, and 
rushes out; Hedda hides the packet as Brack 
enters. 

Brack. 
Another early call, you see ! My party was such 
a singularly animated soiree that I haven't undressed 
all night. Oh, it was the livehest affair conceiv- 



ii8 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iii. 

able ! And, like a true Norwegian host, I tracked 
Lovborg home ; and it is only my duty, as a friend 
of the house, and cock of the walk, to take the first 
opportunity of telling you that he finished up the 
evening by coming to mere loggerheads with a 
red-haired opera-singer, and being taken off to the 
police-station ! You mustn't have him here any 
more. Remember our httle triple alHance ! 

Hedda {her smile fading away). 

You are certainly a dangerous person — but you 
must not get a hold over me ! 

Brack {ambiguously). 

What an idea ! But I might — I am an insinu- 
ating dog. Good morning ! [ Goes out. 

Lovborg {bursting in, confused and excited). 
I suppose you've heard where I've been ? 



ACT II. HEDDA G ABLER. 119 

Hedda {evasively). 
I heard you had a very jolly party at Judge 
Brack's. [Mrs. Elvsted comes in. 

LOVBORG. 

It's all over. I don't mean to do any more 
work. I've no use for a companion now, Thea. 
Go home to your Sheriff ! 

Mrs. Elvsted {agitated). 
Never ! I want to be with you when your book 
comes out ! 

LoVBORG. 

It won't co7ne out — I've torn it up ! (Mrs. 
Elvsted rushes out, wringing her hands.) Mrs. 
Tesman, I told her a lie — but no matter. I 
haven't torn my book up — I've done worse ! I've 
taken it about to several parties, and it's been 



I20 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iii. 

through a police-row with me — now I've lost it. 
Even if I found it again, it wouldn't be the same 
— not to me ! I am a Norwegian literary man, 
and pecuhar. So I must make an end of it alto- 
gether ! 

Hedda. 

Quite so — but look here, you must do it beau- 
tifully. I don't insist on you putting vine-leaves 
in your hair — but do it beautifully. (^Fetches 
pistol^ See, here is one of General Gabler's pis- 
tols — do it with that! 

LOVBORG. 

Thanks ! 

\^He takes the pistol, and goes out through the 
hall- do or ; as soon as he has gone, Hedda 
brings out the manuscript, and puts it on the 
fire, ivhispering to herself, as Curtain falls. 




I am a Norwegian literary man, and peculiar. 



ACT III. 

Scene — The same Room, but — it being evening 
— darker than ever — the crape curtains are 
dratvn. A Servant, with black ribboiis in her 
cap, a?id red eyes, comes in and lights the gas 
quietly and carefully. Chords are heard on 
the piano in the back Drawing-roofn. Pres- 
ently Hedda comes in and looks out iftto the 
darkness. A short pause. Enter George 
Tesman. 

George. 

I am so uneasy about poor Lovborg. Fancy ! 

he is not at home. Mrs. Elvsted told me he had 

been here early this morning, so I suppose you 

gave him back his manuscript, eh? 
123 



124 MR- PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. hi. 

Hedda {cold and immovable, supported by arm- 
chair) . 

No, I put it on the fire instead. 

George. 

On the fire ! Lovborg's wonderful new book 
that he read to me at Brack's party, when we 
had that wild revelry last night ! Fancy f/ial/ 
But, I say, Hedda — isn't that 7'ather — eh ? 
Too bad, you know — really. A great work like 
that. How on earth did you come to think of it? 

Hedda {suppressing an almost imperceptible 
S7nile) . 

Well, dear George, you gave me a tolerably 
strong hint. 

George. 
Me? Well, to be sure ^ that is a joke ! Why, 



ACT in. HEDDA G ABLER. 125 

I only said that I envied him for writing such a 
book, and it would put me entirely in the shade 
if it came out, and if anything was to happen to 
it, I should never forgive myself, as poor Lovborg 
couldn't write it all over again, and so we must 
take the greatest care of it ! And then I left it 
on a chair and went away — that was all ! And 
you went and burnt the book all up ! Bless me, 
who would have expected it? 

Hedda. 
Nobody, you dear simple old soul ! But I did 
it for your sake — it was love, George ! 

George {in an outburst betiveen doubt and joy). 

Hedda, you don't mean that ! Your love takes 
such queer forms sometimes. Yes, but yes — 
(laughing in excess of joy), why, you must be fond 
of me ! Just think of that now ! Well, you are 



126 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iii. 

fun, Hedda ! Look here, I must just run and tell 
the housemaid that — she will enjoy the joke 
so, eh? 

Hedda {coldly, in self-command^. 

It is surely not necessary, even for a clever 
Norwegian man of letters in a realistic social 
drama, to make quite such a fool of himself as all 
that? 

George. 

No, that's true too. Perhaps we'd better keep 
it quiet — though I 7nust tell Aunt Juhe — it will 
make her so happy to hear that you burnt a manu- 
script on my account ! And, besides, I should 
like to ask her whether that's a usual thing with 
young wives. {Looks tmeasy and pensive again.^ 
But poor old Ejlert's manuscript ! Oh Lor, you 
know ! Well, well ! [Mrs. Elvsted comes in. 



act iii. hedda g abler. 127 

Mrs. Elvsted. 

Oh, please, I'm so uneasy about dear Mr. 
Lovborg. Something has happened to him, I'm 
sure ! 

Judge Brack incomes in from the hall, with a new 
hat in his hand). 

You have guessed it, first time. Something 
has / 

Mrs. Elvsted. 

Oh, dear, good gracious ! What is it? Some- 
thing distressing, I'm certain of it ! 

\_Shrieks aloud. 

Brack {pleasantly). 

That depends on how one takes it. He has 
shot himself, and is in a hospital now, that's all ! 



128 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. hi. 

George {^sympathetically) . 

That's sad, eh ? poor old Lovborg ! Well, I 
ajn cut up to hear that. Fancy, though, eh? 

Hedda. 

Was it through the temple, or through the 
breast? The breast? Well, one can do it beau- 
tifully through the breast, too. Do you know, as 
an advanced woman, I like an act of that sort — 
it's so positive, to have the courage to settle the 
account with himself — it's beautiful, really ! 

Mrs. Elvsted. 

Oh, Hedda, what an odd way to look at it ! 
But never mind poor dear Mr. Lovborg now. 
What we've got to do is to see if we can't put his 
wonderful manuscript, that he said he had torn 
to pieces, together again. {Takes a bundle of 



ACT III. HEDDA G ABLER. 129 

small pages out of the pocket of her mantle.) 
There are the loose scraps he dictated it to me 
from. I hid them on the chance of some such 
emergency. And if dear Mr. Tesman and I were 
to put our heads together, I do think something 
might come of it. 

George. 

Fancy ! I will dedicate my life — or all I can 
spare of it — to the task. I seem to feel I owe him 
some slight amends, perhaps. No use crying over 
spilt milk, eh, Mrs. Elvsted? We'll sit down — 
just you and I — in the back drawing-room, and 
see if you can't inspire me as you did him, eh? 

Mrs. Elvsted. 

Oh, goodness, yes ! I should like it — if it only 
might be possible ! 



I30 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. hi. 

[George and Mrs. Elvsted go into the back 
Drawing-room and become absorbed in eager 
conversation ; Hedda sits in a chair in the 
front room, and a little later Brack crosses 
over to her. 

Hedda {in a low tone). 

Oh, Judge, what a relief to know that every- 
thing • — including Lovborg's pistol — went off so 
well ! In the breast ! Isn't there a veil of unin- 
tentional beauty in that? Such an act of volun- 
tary courage, too ! 

Brack {smiles). 
H'ra ! — perhaps, dear Mrs. Hedda 



Hedda {enthusiastically) . 

But wasnU it sweet of him ! To have the 
courage to live his own life after his own fashion 



ACT III. HEDDA G ABLER. 131 

— to break away from the banquet of life — so 
early and so drunk ! A beautiful act like that does 
appeal to a superior woman's imagination ! 

Brack. 

Sorry to shatter your poetical illusions, little 
Mrs. Hedda, but, as a matter of fact, our lamented 
friend met his end under other circumstances. 
The shot did not strike him in the breast — 
but \_Pauses. 

Hedda {excitedly). 

General Gabler's pistols ! I might have known 
it ! Did they eve7^ shoot straight ? Where was he 
hit, then? 

Brack {in a discreet undertone^. 
A little lower down ! 



132 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. hi. 

Hedda. 
Oh, how disgusting ! — how vulgar ! — how 
ridiculous ! — like everything else about me ! 

Brack. 
Yes, we're realistic types of human nature, and 
all that — but a trifle squalid, perhaps. And why 
did you give Lovborg your pistol, when it was 
certain to be traced by the police ? For a charm- 
ing cold-blooded woman with a clear head and no 
scruples, wasn't it just a leetle fooHsh? 

Hedda. 
Perhaps ; but I wanted him to do it beautifully, 
and he didn't ! Oh, I've just admitted that I did 
give him the pistol — how annoyingly unwise of 
me ! Now I'm in your power, I suppose ? 



ACT III. HEDDA G ABLER. 133 

Brack. 

Precisely — for some reason it's not easy to 
understand. But it's inevitable, and you know 
how you dread anything approaching scandal. 
All your past proceedings show that. ( To George 
and Mrs. Elvsted, who come in together from the 
back-room^ Well, how are you getting on with 
the reconstruction of poor Lovborg's great work, 
eh? 

George. 

Capitally ; we've made out the first two parts 
already. And really, Hedda, I do believe Mrs. 
Elvsted is inspiring me ; I begin to feel it coming 
on. Fancy that ! 

Mrs. Elvsted. 

Yes, goodness ! Hedda, won''t it be lovely if I 
can. I mean to try so hard ! 



134 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. hi. 

Hedda. 

Do, you dear little silly rabbit; and while you 
are trying I will go into the back drawing-room 
and lie down. 

\_She goes into the back-rooi7i and draws the 
curtains. Short pause. Suddenly she is 
heard playing " The Bogie Man " within on 
the piano. 

George. 

But, dearest Hedda, don't play " The Bogie 
Man " this evening. As one of my aunts is dead, 
and poor old Lovborg has shot himself, it seems 
just a little pointed, eh? 

Hedda inputs her head out between the curtains) . 

All right ! I'll be quiet after this. I'm going 

to practise with the late General Gabler's pistol ! 

[ Closes the curtains again ; George gets behind 



ACT III. HEDDA G ABLER. 135 

the stove, Judge Brack under the table, and 
Mrs. Elvsted under the sofa. A shot is 
heai'd within. 

George {behind the stove). 

Eh^ look here, I tell you what — she's hit me / 
Think of that ! 

\_His legs are visibly agitated for a short time. 
Another shot is heai'd. 

Mrs. Elvsted {tmder the sofa). 

Oh, please, not me ! Oh, goodness, now I 
can't inspire anybody any more. Oh ! 

\_Her feet, which can be seen under the valance, 
quiver a little, and then are suddenly still. 

Brack {vivaciously, from under the table) . 

I say, Mrs. Hedda, I'm coming in every even- 
ing — we will have great fun here togeth 



136 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iir. 

(^Another shot is heard.) Bless me ! to bring down 
the poor old cock-of-the-walk — it's unsportsman- 
like ! — people don't do such things as that ! 

\_The table-cloth is violently agitated for a 

minute, and presently the curtains ope^i, and 

Hedda appears. 

Hedda {clearly and fif'nily). 
I've been trying in there to shoot myself beau- 
tifully — but with General Gabler's pistol 

{She lifts the table-cloth, then looks behind the 
stove and tinder the sofa.) What ! the accounts 
of all those everlasting bores settled? Then my 
suicide becomes unnecessary. Yes, I feel the 
courage of life once more ! 

\_She goes into the back-room and plays " The 
Funeral March of a Marionette " as the 
Cu7'tain falls. 

THE END. 




What ! the accounts of all those everlasting bores 
settled?" 



No. IV. 
THE WILD DUCK 




Father, a word with you in private. 1 loathe you ! " 



No. IV. 
THE WILD DUCK. 

ACT I. 

At Werle's house. In front a richly-upholstered 
study. (r.) a green-baize door leading to 
Werle's office. At back, open folding doors, 
revealing an elegant dining-room, i7t which a 
brilliant Norivegian difuier-party is going on. 
Hired Waiters in profusion. A glass is tapped 
with a knife. Shouts of^^Braiw!'' Old Mr. 
Werle is heard making a long speech, proposing 
— according to the custom of Norwegian society 
on such occasions — the health of his House- 
keeper, Mrs. Sorby. Presently several short- 
141 



142 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. iv. 

sighted, flabby, and thin-haired Chamberlains 
enter from the dining-roofn, with Hialmar 
Ekdal, who writhes shyly under their remarks. 

A Chamberlain. 
As we are the sole surviving specimens of Nor- 
wegian nobility, suppose we sustain our reputa- 
tion as aristocratic sparklers by enlarging upon 
the enormous amount we have eaten, and chaffing 
Hialmar Ekdal, the friend of our host's son, for 
being a professional Photographer? 

The Other Chamberlains. 

Bravo ! We will. 

\_They do; delight of Hialmar. Old Werle 
comes in, leaning on his Housekeeper'' s arm, 
followed by his son, Gregers Werle. 

Old Werle (^dejectedly). 
Thirteen at table ! {To Gregers, with a mean- 



ACT!. THE WILD DUCK. 143 

i7ig glance at Hialmar.) This is the result of 
inviting an old College friend who has turned 
Photographer ! Wasting vintage wines on him, 
indeed ! [^He passes on gloomily. 

Hialmar {to Gregers). 

I am almost sorry I came. Your old min is 

not friendly. Yet he set me up as a Photographer 

fifteen years ago. Now he takes me down ! But 

for him, I should never have married Giha, who, 

you may remember, was a servant in your family 

once. 

Gregers. 

What? my old College friend married fifteen 
years ago — and to our Gina, of all people ! If 
I had not been up at the works all these years, 
I suppose I should have heard something of such 
an event. But my father never mentioned it. 
Odd! 



144 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iv. 

\_He ponders ; Old Y^y^dm. comes out through the 
green-baize door, bowing, and begging pardon, 
carrying copying work. Old Werle says 
" Ugh " and '^ Fah " involuntarily. Hialmar 
shrinks back, and looks another way. A 
Chamberlain asks him pleasantly if he knows 
that old man. 

Hialmar. 
I — oh no. Not in the least. No relation ! 

Gregers {^shocked'). 
What, Hialmar, you, with your great soul, deny 
your own father ! 

Hialmar {vehe?nently) . 

Of course — what else can a Photographer do 

with a disreputable old parent, who has been in 

a Penitentiary for making a fraudulent map? I 

shall leave this splendid banquet. The Cham- 



THE WILD DUCK. 



145 



berlains are not kind to me, and I feel the 
crushing hand of fate on my head ! 

\_Goes out hastily, feeling it. 

Mrs. Sorby {archly). 

Any Nobleman here say "Cold Punch"? 

\_Every Nol?leman says " Cold Piinch,^' a7td 
follows her out in search of it with enthu- 
siasm. Gregers approaches his father, wha 
wishes he would go. 

Gregers. 

Father, a word with you in private. I loathe 
you. I am nothing if not candid. Old Ekdal 
was your partner once, and it's my firm belief 
you deserved a prison quite as much as he did. 
However, you surely need not have married our 
Gina to my old friend Hialmar. You know very 



146 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. iv. 

well she was no better than she should have 
been ! 

Old Werle. 

True — but then no more is Mrs. Sorby. And 
/ am going to marry her — if you have no ob- 
jection, that is. 

Gregers. 

None in the world ! How can I object to a 
stepmother who is playing BHnd Man's Buff at 
the present moment with the Norwegian nobility? 
I am not so overstrained as all that. But really 
I Q,2.miot allow my old friend Hialmar, with his 
great, confiding, childlike mind, to remain in 
contented ignorance of Gina's past. No, I see 
my mission in life at last ! I shall take my hat, 
and inform him that his home is built upon a 
lie. He will be so much obliged to me ! 

\Takes his hat, and goes out. 



ACT I. THE WILD DUCK, 147 

Old Werle. 
Ha ! — I am a wealthy merchant, of dubious 
morals, and I am about to marry my housekeeper, 
who is ■ on intimate terms with the Norwegian 
aristocracy. I have a son who loathes me, and 
who is either an Ibsenian satire on the Master's 
own ideals, or else an utterly impossible prig — I 
don't know or care which. Altogether, I flatter 
myself my household affords an accurate and 
realistic picture of Scandinavian Society ! 



ACT II. 

HiALMAR Ekdal's PhotograpMc Studio. Cameras, 
neck-rests, and other instritments of torttcre 
lying about. Gina Ekdal and Hedvig, her 
daughter, aged fourteen, and wearing spectacles, 
discovered sitting up for Hialmar. 

Hedvig. 

Grandpapa is in his room with a bottle of 
brandy and a jug of hot water, doing some 
fresh copying work. Father is in society, dining 
out. He promised he would bring me home 
something nice ! 

Hialmar {coming in, in evening dress). 

And he has not forgotten his promise, my child. 
148 



ACT II. THE WILD DUCK. 149 

Behold ! (yHe presents her with the menu card ,- 
Hedvig gulps down her tears ; Hialmar notices 
her disappoi?itjnent, with annoyance^ And this 
all the gratitude I get ! After dining out and 
coming home in a dress-coat and boots, which 
are disgracefully tight ! Well, well, just to show 
you how hurt I am, I won't have any beer now ! 
What a selfish brute I am ! {^Relenting^ You 
may bring me just a little drop. {^He bursts into 
tears.) I will play you a plaintive Bohemian 
dance on my flute. {He does.) No beer at such 
a sacred moment as this ! {He drinks.) Ha, 
this is real domestic bliss ! 

[Gregers Werle comes in, in a countrified 
suit. 

Gregers. 

I have left my father's home — dinner-party and 
all — for ever. I am coming to lodge with you. 



150 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. no. iv. 

HiALMAR {still melancholy) . 
Have some bread and butter. You won't? 
then I will I want it, after your father's lavish 
hospitality. (Hedvig goes to fetch bread and 
butter.) My daughter — a poor short-sighted 
little thing — but mine own. 

Gregers. 
My father has had to take to strong glasses, 
too — he can hardly see after dinner. ( To Old 
Ekdal, who stumbles in very drunk.) How can 
you. Lieutenant Ekdal, who were such a keen 
sportsman once, live in this poky little hole? 

Old Ekdal. 

I am a sportsman still. The only difference is 

that once I shot bears in a forest, and now I pot 

tame rabbits in a garret. Quite as amusing — 

and safer. \^He goes to sleep on a sofa. 



ACT II. THE WILD DUCK. 151 

HiALMAR {with pride). 

It is quite true. You shall see. 
\^He pushes back sliding doors, and reveals a 
- gari'et full of rabbits and poultij — moon- 
light effect. Hedvig retuj-ns with bread and 
butter. 

Hedvig {to Gregers). 

If you stand just there, you get the best view 
of our Wild Duck. We are very proud of her, 
because she gives the play its title, you know, 
and has to be brought into the dialogue a good 
deal. Your father peppered her out shooting, 
and we saved her hfe. 

HiALMAR. 

Yes, Gregers, our estate is not large — but still 
we preserve, you see. And my poor old father 
and I sometimes get a day's gunning in the garret. 



i52 MR. PUNCH'S ROCKET iBSkN. No. iv. 

He shoots with a pistol, which my ilhterate wife 
here will call a " pigstol," He once, when he 
got into trouble, pointed it at himself. But the 
descendant of two heutenant-colonels who had 
never quailed before living rabbit yet, faltered 
then. He didn't shoot. Then I put it to my 
own head. But at the decisive moment, I won 
the victory over myself I remained in hfe. 
Now we only shoot rabbits and fowls with it. 
After all, I am very happy and contented as I 
am. \^He eats some bread and butte7\ 

Gregers. 
But you ought not to be. You have a good 
deal of the Wild Duck about you. So have your 
wife and daughter. You are living in marsh 
vapours. To-morrow I will take you out for a 
walk and explain what I mean. It is my mission 
in life. Good night ! \^FIe goes out. 



ACT II. THE WILD DUCK. 153 

GiNA and Hedvig. 
What was the gentleman talking about, Father? 

HiALMAR {eating bread and btUter) 
He has been dining, you know. No matter — 
what we have to do now, is to put my disreputable 
old white-haired pariah of a parent to bed. 
\He and Gina lift Old Eccles — we mean Old 
Ekdal — up by the legs and arms, and take 
him off to bed as the Curtain falls. 



ACT III. 

Hialmar's Studio. A photograph has just been 
taken. Gina and Hedvig are tidying up. 

GiNA {apologetically) . 

There should have been a hincheon-party in 

this Act, with Dr. Relling and Molvik, who would 

have been in a state of comic " chippiness," after 

his excesses overnight. But, as it hadn't much 

to do with such plot as there is, we cut it out. 

It came cheaper. Here comes your father back 

from his walk with that lunatic. Young Werle — 

you had better go and play with the Wild Duck. 

[Hedvig ^^^i-. 

HiALMAR {coming in). 

I have been for a walk with Gregers ; he meant 
154 



ACTiir. THE WILD DUCK. 155 

well — but it was tiring. Gina, he has told me that, 
fifteen years ago, before I married you, you were 
rather a Wild Duck, so to speak. {Severely.) 
Why haven't you been writhing in penitence and 
remorse all these years, eh? 

Gina {sensibly). 
Why? Because I have had other things to 
do. You wouldn't take any photographs, so I 
had to. 

HiALMAR. 

All the same — it was a swamp of deceit. And 
where am I to find elasticity of spirit to bring 
out my grand invention now? I used to shut 
myself up in the parlour, and ponder and cry, 
when I thought that the effort of inventing any- 
thing would sap my vitality. {Pathetically.) I 
did want to leave you an inventor's widow ; but 
I never shall now, particularly as I haven't made 



156 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iv. 

up my mind what to invent yet. Yes, it's all 
over. Rabbits are trash, and even poultry palls. 
And I'll wring that cursed Wild Duck's neck ! 

Gregers {coming in beaming). 

Well, so you've got it over. Wasn't it soothing 
and ennobling, eh? and ain't you both obHged 
to me? 

GiNA. 

No ; it's my opinion you'd better have minded 
your own business. \_Weeps. 

Gregers {in great surprise^. 

Bless me ! Pardon my Norwegian naivete, but 
this ought really to be quite a new starting-point. 
Why, I confidently expected to have found you 
both beaming ! — Mrs. Ekdal, being so illiterate, 
may take some httle time to see it — but you, 



ACT III. THE WILD DUCK. 157 

Hialmar, with your deep mind, surely you feel a 
new consecration, eh? 

Hialmar (^dubiously). 

Oh — er — yes. I suppose so — in a sort of 
way. [Hedvig runs in, overjoyed. 

Hedvig. 

Father, only see what Mrs. Sorby has given me 
for a birthday present — a beautiful deed of gift ! 

\_Shoivs it. 
Hialmar {eluding her). 

Ha ! Mrs. Sorby, the family Housekeeper. 
My father's sight faihng ! Hedvig in goggles ! 
What vistas of heredity these astonishing coinci- 
dences open up ! I am not short-sighted, at all 
events, and I see it all — all ! This is my answer. 
{He takes the deed, and tears it across.) Now 



158 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iv. 

I have nothing more to do in this house. {^Puts 
on overcoat^ My home has fallen in ruins about 
me. {Bursts into tears.) My hat ! 

Gregers. 

Oh, but you mustn't go. You must be all 
three together, to attain the true frame of mind 
for self-sacrificing forgiveness, you know ! 

HiALMAR. 

Self-sacrificing forgiveness be blowed ! 

\_He tears himself away, and goes out. 

Hedvig {with despairing eyes). 

Oh, he said it might be blowed ! Now he'll 
never come home any more ! 

Gregers. 
Shall I tell you how to regain your father's 



ACT III. THE WILD DUCK. 159 

confidence, and bring him home surely? Sac- 
rifice the Wild Duck. 

- Hedvig. 
Do you think that will do any good? 

Gregers. 
You just try it! \_Curtain. 



ACT IV. 

Same Scene. Gregers enters, and finds Gina 
retouching photographs. 

Gregers {pleasantly). 

Hialmar not come in yet, after last night, I 
suppose ? 

Gina. 

Not he ! He's been out on .the loose all night 
with Relling and Molvik. Now he's snoring on 
their sofa. 

Gregers {disappomted) . 

Dear ! — dear ! — when he ought to be yearning 

to wrestle in solitude and self-examination ! 
1 60 



ACT IV. THE WILD DUCK. i6i 

GiNA {rudely). 

Self-examine your grandmother ! 

\_She goes oict ; Hedvig comes in. 

Gregers {to Hedvig). 

Ah, I see you haven't found courage to settle 
the Wild Duck yet ! 

Hedvig. 

No — it seemed such a delightful idea at first. 
Now it strikes me as a trifle — well, Ibsenish. 

Gregers {repi^ovingly) . 

I thought you hadn't grown up quite unharmed 
in this house ! But if you really had the true, 
joyous spirit of self-sacrifice, you'd have a shot 
at that Wild Duck, if you died for it ! 



1 62 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iv. 

Hedvig {slowly). 

I see ; you mean that my constitution's chang- 
ing, and I ought to behave as such? 

Gregers. 

Exactly, I'm what Americans would term a 
" crank " — but / beheve in you, Hedvig. 

[Hedvig takes down the pistol from the mantel- 
piece, and goes into the garret with flashing 
eyes ; Gina comes in. 

HiALMAR {looking in at door with hesitation; he 
is unwashed and dishevelled). 

Has anybody happened to see my hat? 

Gina. 

Gracious, what a sight you are ! Sit down and 
have some breakfast, do. \_She brings it. 



ACT IV. THE WILD DUCK. 163 

HiALMAR {indignantly) . 

What ! touch food under this roof ? Never ! 
{Helps himself to dread- and-dutter and coffee.) 
Go and pack up my scientific uncut books, my 
manuscripts, and all the best rabbits, in my port- 
manteau. I am going away for ever. On second 
thoughts, I shall stay in the spare room for another 
day or two — it won't be the same as living with 
you ! \_He takes some salt meat 

Gregers. 

Must you go ? Just when you've got nice firm 
ground to build upon — thanks to me ! Then 
there's your great invention, too. 

HiALMAR. 

Everything's invented already. And I only 
cared about my invention because, although it 



1 64 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iv. 

doesn't exist yet, I thought Hedvig believed in 
it, with all the strength of her sweet little short- 
sighted eyes ! But now I don't believe in Hed- 
vig ! 

\^He pours himself out another cup of coffee. 

Gregers {earnestly). 
But, Hialmar, if I can prove to you that she 
is ready to sacrifice her cherished Wild Duck? 
See ! 

\_He pushes back sliding-door, and discovers 
Hedvig aimiitg at the Wild Duck with the 
butt-end of the pistol. Tableau. 

GiNA {excitedly) . 
But don't you see ? It's the pigstol — that fatal 
Norwegian weapon which, in Ibsenian dramas, 
never shoots straight ! And she has got it by 
the wrong end too. She will shoot herself! 




" Discovers Hedvig aiming at the Wild Duck with the butt- 
end of the pistol." 



ACT IV. THE WILD DUCK, 167 

Gregers {quietly^. 

She will ! Let the child make amends. It will 
be a most realistic and impressive finale ! 

GiNA. 

No, no — put down the pigstol, Hedvig. Do 
you heaij child ? 

Hedvig {^still aimmg). 
I hear — but I shan't unless father tells me to. 

Gregers. 

Hialmar, show the great soul I always said you 
had. This sorrow will set free what is noble in 
you. Don't spoil a fine situation. Be a man ! 
Let the child shoot herself! 



1 68 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iv, 

HiALMAR {irresoliLtely) . 

Well, really I don't know. There's a good deal 
in what Gregers says. H'm ! 

GiNA. 

A good deal of tomfool rubbish ! I'm illiterate, 
I know. I've been a Wild Duck in my time, 
and I waddle. But for all that, I'm the only 
person in the play with a grain of common-sense. 
And I'm sure — whatever Mr. Ibsen or Gregers 
choose to say — that a screaming burlesque like 
this ought not to end hke a tragedy — even in this 
queer Norway of ours ! And it shan't, either ! 
Tell the child to put that nasty pigstol down 
and come away, do ! 

HiALMAR (^yielding). 
Ah, well, I am a farcical character myself, 



ACT IV. THE WILD DUCK. 169 

after all. Don't touch a hair of that duck's 
head, Hedvig. Come to my arms, and all shall 
be forgiven ! 

[Hedvig throws down the pistol — which goes 
off and kills a rabbit — and rushes into her 
father's arms. Old Ekdal conies out of a 
corner with a fowl on each shoulder, and 
hursts into tears. Affecting family picture. 

Gregers {annoyed^. 

It's all very pretty, I dare say — but it's not 
Ibsen ! My real mission is to be the thirteenth 
at table. I don't know what I mean — but I fly 
to fulfil it ! \_He goes. 

HiALMAR. 

And now we've got rid of him, Hedvig, fetch 
me the deed of gift I tore up, and a slip of 



lyo MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, no. iv. 

paper, and a penny bottle of gum, and we'll soon 
make a valid instrument of it again ! 

\_He pastes the torn deed together as the Cuj"- 
tain slowly descends. 



THE END. 



PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 

(^Translated from the Original Norwegian by Mr. Punch) 



■^^M 




■ For goodness' sake, let go my legs ! " 



PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 

(^Translated from the Original Norwegian by Mr. Punch.') 

[Prefatory Note. — The original title, Mester-Pijl- 
drogster Herdal, would sound a trifle too uncouth to the 
Philistine ear, and is therefore modified as above, although 
the term "drogster," strictly speaking, denotes a practitioner 
who has not received a regular diploma.] 

ACT I. 

An elegantly furnished Dratving-i'oom at Dr. 
Herdal's. In front, on the left, a Console- 
table, on which is a large roitnd bottle full of 
coloured water. On the right a stove, with a 
banfier-screen made oict of a richly-embroidered 
chest-protector. On the stove, a stethoscope and 
a small galvanic batteij. In one cojiier, a hat 

and ujnbrella stand ; in another, a desk, at 
173 



174 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act l 

which stands Senna Blakdraf, making out the 
quarterly accounts. Through a glass- door at 
the back is seen the Dispensary, where Rubub 
Kalomel is seated, occupied in 7'olling a pill. 
Both go on working in perfect silence for four 
minutes arid a half. 

Dr. Haustus Herdal {^enters through hall-door; 
he is elderly, with a plain sensible countenance, 
but slightly weak hair and expression). 

Come here, Miss Blakdraf. {Hangs up hat, and 
throws his mackintosh on a divan.) Have you 
made out all those bills yet? 

\Looks sternly at her. 

Senna {iit a low hesitating voice). 

Almost. I have charged each patient with 
three attendances daily. Even when you only 



ACT I. PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 175 

dropped in for a cup of tea and a chat. {Passion- 
ately.) I felt 1 must — I nmst I 

Dr. Herdal {alters his tone, clasps her head in 
his hands, and whispers'). 

I wish you could make out the bills for me, 
always. 

Senna {in ne) votes exaltation). 

How lovely that would be ! Oh, you are so 
unspeakably good to me ! It is too enthralling to 
be here ! \_Sinks down and embraces his knees. 

Dr. Herdal. 

So I've understood. ( With suppressed irrita- 
tion.) For goodness' sake, let go my legs ! I do 
7vish you wouldn't be so confoundedly neurotic ! 

RiJBUB {has iHsen, and comes in through glass- 
door, breathing with difficulty ; he is a prema- 



176 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act i. 

turely bald young man of fifty -five, with a hai^e- 

lip and squints slightly^. 

I beg pardon, Dr. Herdal. I see I interrupt 
you. {^As SeNxVA j-ises.) I have just completed 
this pill. Have you looked at it? 

[^He offers it for inspection diffidently. 

Dr. Herdal {evasively). 
It appears to be a pill of the usual dimensions. 

RuBUB {cast down). 
All these years you have never given me one 
encouraging word ! Can't you praise my pill? 

Dr. Herdal {struggles with himself). 
I — I cannot. You should not attempt to com- 
pound pills on your own account. 

RiJBUB {breathing laboriously). 
And yet there was a time when you, too 



ACT I. PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 177 

Dr. Herdal (^complacently). 
Yes, it was certainly a pill that came as a lucky 
stepping-stone — but not a pill like that ! 

RiJBUB {vehemently'). 
Listen ! Is that your last word ? Is my aged 
mother to pass out of this world without ever 
knowing whether I am competent to construct an 
effective pill or not? 

Dr. Herdal {as if in desperation). 
You had better try it upon your mother — it 
will enable her to form an opinion. Only mind 
— I will not be responsible for the result. 

RUBUB. 

I understand. Exactly as you tried your pill, 
all those years ago, upon Dr. Ryval. 

\_He bows, a?id goes out. 



178 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act i. 

Dr. Herdal (iineasify). 
He said that so strangely, Senna. But tell me 
now — when are you going to marry him? 

Senna (^starts — half glancing up at him^ . 
I — I don't know. This year — next year — 
now — never! I cannot marry him . . . lean- 
not — I cannot — it is so utterly impossible to 
leave you ! 

Dr. Herdal. 
Yes, I can understand that. But, my poor 
Senna, hadn't you better take a Httle walk? 

Senna {clasps her hands gratefully). 
How sweet and thoughtful you are to me ! I 
will take a walk. 

Dr. Herdal {with a suppressed smile) . 
Do ! And — h'm ! — you needn't trouble to 



ACT I. PILL-DOC TOR HERDAL. 179 

come back. I have advertised for a male book- 
keeper — they are less emotional. Good-night, 
my little Senna ! 

Senna {^softly, and quiveringly') . 

Good-night, Dr. Herdal ! 

\Staggers out of hall door, blowing kisses. 

Mrs. Herdal {^enters through the window, plain- 
tively') . 
Quite an acquisition for you, Haustus, this Miss 
Blakdraf! 

Dr. Herdal. 

She's — h'm 1 — extremely civil and obhging. 
But I am parting with her, Aline — mainly on yoi^r 
account. 

Mrs. Herdal (evades him). 

Was it on my account, indeed, Haustus ? You 



i8o MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act i. 

have parted with so many young persons on my 
account — so you tell me! 

Dr. Herdal {depressed'). 

Oh, but this is hopeless ! When I have tried 
so hard to bring a ray of sunlight into your deso- 
late Hfe ! I must give Riibub Kalomel notice too 
— his pill is really too preposterous ! 

Mrs. Herdal {feels gropingly for a chair , and sits 
down on the floor). 

Him, too! Ah, Haustus, you will never make 
my home a real home for me. My poor first 
husband, Halvard Solness, tried — and he couldn't ! 
When one has had such misfortunes as I have — 
all the family portraits burnt, and the silk dresses, 
too, and a pair of twins, and nine lovely dolls. 

[ Chokes with tears. 



ACT PILL-DOCTOR HERBAL. i8i 

Dr. Herdal {as if to lead her away fi'om the 
subject) . 
Yes, yes, yes, that must have been a heavy blow 
for you, my poor AHne. I can understand that 
your spirits can never be really high again. And 
then for poor Master Builder Solness to be so 
taken up with that Miss Wangel as he was — that, 
too, was so wretched for you. To see him topple 
off the tower, as he did that day ten years ago ■ 

Mrs. Herdal. 

Yes, that too, Haustus. But I did not mind it 
so much — it all seemed so perfectly natural in 
both of them. 

Dr. Herdal. 

Natural ! For a girl of twenty-three to taunt 
a middle-aged architect, whom she knew to be 
constitutionally liable to giddiness, never to let 



1 82 . MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act i. 

him have any peace till he had climbed a spire as 
dizzy as himself — and all for the fun of seeing 
him fall off — how in the world ! 

Mrs. Herdal {laying the table foi' supper- with 
dried fish and piincli). 

The younger generation have a keener sense of 
humour than we elder ones, Haustus, and perhaps, 
after all, she was only a perplexing sort of allegory. 

Dr. Herdal. 

Yes, that would explain her to some extent, no 
doubt. But how he could be such an old fool ! 

Mrs. Herdal. 

That Miss Wangel was a strangely fascinating 
type of girl. Why, even I myself 



ACT I. PILL-DOCTOR HERBAL. 183 

Dr. Herdal (ySits down and takes soi7ie fish) . 

Fascinating? Well, goodness knows, I couldn't 
see that at all. {Seriously.) Has it never struck 
you, Aline, that elderly Norwegians are so deu- 
cedly impressionable — mere bundles of over- 
strained nerves, hypersensitive ganglia? Except, 
of course, the Medical Profession. 

Mrs. Herdal. 

Yes, of course ; those in that profession are not 
so inclined to gangle. And when one has suc- 
ceeded by such a stroke of luck as you have 

Dr. Herdal {drinks a glass of punch). 

You're right enough there. If I had not been 
called in to prescribe for Dr. Ryval, who used 
to have the leading practice here, I should never 
have stepped so wonderfully into his shoes as I 



1^4 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act i. 

did. ( Changes to a tone of quiet, chuckling merri- 
ment.^ Let me tell you a funny story, Aline ; it 
sounds a ludicrous thing — but all my good fortune 
here was based upon a simple Httle pill. For if 
Dr. Ryval had never taken it 

Mrs. Herdal {anxiously). 
Then you do think it was the pill that caused 

him to ? 

Dr. Herdal. 

On the contrary ; I am perfectly sure the pill 
had nothing whatever to do with it — the inquest 
made it quite clear that it was really the liniment. 
But don't you see, Aline, what tortures me night 
and day is the thought that it might unconsciously 

have been the pill which Never to be free 

from that/ To have such a thought gnawing 
and burning always — always, like a moral mustard 
poultice ! \_He takes more punch. 



ACT I. PILL-DOC 2^ OR HERDAL. 185 

Mrs. Herdal. 

Yes ; I suppose there is a poultice of that sort 
burning on every breast — and we must never 
take it off either — it is our simple duty to keep 
it on. I too, Haustus, am haunted by a fancy 
that if this Miss Wangel were to ring at our bell 
now 

Dr. Herdal. 

After she has been lost sight of for ten years? 
She is safe enough in some Sanatorium, depend 
upon it. And what if she did come? Do you 
think, my dear good woman, that I — a sensible 
clear-headed general practitioner, who have found 
out all I know for myself — would let her play 
the deuce with me as she did with poor Halvard? 
No, general practitioners don't do such things — 
even in Norway ! 



1 86 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act i. 

Mrs. Herdal. 

Don't they indeed, Haustus? {The Surgery- 
bell rings loudly.) Did you hear that! There 
she is. I will go and put on my best cap. It is 
my duty to show her that small attention. 

Dr. Herdal {laughing nervously'). 

Why, what on earth ! It's the night-bell. 

It is most probably the new book-keeper ! (Mrs. 
Herdal goes out; Dr. Herdal rises with difficulty, 
and opens the door.) Goodness gracious ! — it is 
that girl, after all ! 

Hilda Wangel {enters through the Dispensary 
door. She wears a divided skirt, thick boots, 
and a Tam o^Shanter, with an eagle's wing in 
it. Somezvhat freckled. Carries a green tin 
cylinder slung i^ound her, and a rug ift a strap. 



ACT I. PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 187 

Goes straight up to Herdal, her eyes sparkling 
with happiness). 

How are you? I've run you down, you see ! 
The ten years are up. Isn't it scrumptiously 
thrilling, to see me like this? 

Dr. Herdal (^politely retreating). 

It is — very much so — but still I don't in the 
least understand 

Hilda {ineasures him with a glance). 

Oh, you will. I have come to be of use to 
you. I've no luggage, and no money. Not that 
that makes any difference. I never have. And 
I've been allured and attracted here. You surely 
know how these things come about? 

\_Throws her arms round him. 



1 88 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act i. 

Dr. Herdal. 

What the deuce ! Miss Wangel, you mustn't. 
I'm a married man ! There's my wife ! 

[Mrs. Herdal enters. 

Hilda. 

As if that mattered — it's only dear, sweet Mrs. 
Solness. She doesn't mind — do you, dear Mrs. 
Sohiess ? 

Mrs. Herdal. 

It does not seem to be of much use minding, 
Miss Wangel. I presume you have come to stay? 

Hilda {in amused suj'-prise^. 

Why, of course — what else should I come for ? 
I always come to stay, until — h'm ! 

\_Nods slowly, and sits down at table. 



ACT I. PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 189 

Dr. Herdal {^involim tartly). 

She's drinking my punch ! If she thinks I'm 
going to stand this sort of thing, she's mistaken. 
I'll soon show her a Pill-Doctor is a very differ- 
ent kind of a person from a mere Master Builder ! 
[Hilda finishes the putich with an indefinable 
expression in her eyes, and Dr. Herdal looks 
on gloojnily as the Curtain falls. End of 
First Act. 



ACT II. 

Dr. Herdal's Drawing-roojn and Dispensary, as 
before. It is early in the day. Dr. Herdal 
sits by the little table, taking his own temperature 
with a clinical thermometer. By the door stands 
The New Book-keeper; he wears blue specta- 
cles and a discoloured ivhite tie, and seems slightly 
nervoics. 

Dr. Herdal. 

Well, now you understand what is necessary. 
My late book-keeper, Miss Blakdraf, used to keep 
my accounts very cleverly — she charged every visit 
twice over. 

The New Book-keeper. 

I am familiar with book-keeping by double 

entry. I was once employed at a Bank. 
190 



ACT II. PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 191 

Dr. Herdal. 
I am discharging my assistant, too; he was 
always trying to push me out with his pills. Per- 
haps you will be able to dispense? 

The New Book-keeper {modestly). 
With an additional salary, I should be able to do 

that too. 

Dr. Herdal. 

Capital ! You shall dispense with an additional 
salary. Go into the Dispensary, and see what you 
can make of it. You may mistake a few drugs at 
first — but everything must have a beginning. 
S^As The New Book-keeper retb-es, Mrs. Her- 
dal enters in a hat and cloak with a water- 
ing-pot, noiselessly. 

Mrs. Herdal. 
Miss Wangel got up early, before breakfast, and 



192 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act ii. 

went for a walk. She is so wonderfully viva- 
cious ! 

Dr. Herdal. 

So I should say. But tell me, Aline, is she 
really going to stay with us here? \_Nervously. 

Mrs. Herdal {looks at him). 

So she tells me. And, as she has brought 

nothing with her except a tooth-brush and a 

powder-puff, I am going into the town to get her 

a few articles. We must make her feel at home. 

Dr. Herdal {breaking out). 
I will make her not only feel, but be at home, 
wherever that is, this very day ! I will not have a 
perambulating Allegory without a portmanteau here 
on an indefinite visit. I say, she shall go — do 
you hear. Aline ? Miss Wangel will go ! 

\Raps with his fist on table. 



A.CT II. PILL-DOCTOR HERD A L. 193 

Mrs. Herdal {quietly). 
If you say so, Haustus, no doubt she will have 
to go. But you must tell her so yourself. 

\_Piits the watefing-pot oti the console-table, and 
goes out, as Hilda enters, sparkling with 
pleasure. 

Hilda {goes up straight to him). 
Good morning, Dr. Herdal. I have just seen a 
pig killed. It was 7'ipping — I mean, gloriously 
thriUing ! And your wife has taken a tremendous 
fancy to me. Fancy that/ 

Dr. Herdal {glootnily). 
It is eccentric certainly. But my poor dear 
wife was always a little 

Hilda {nods her head slowly several times). 
So you. have noticed that too? I have had a 



194 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act ii. 

long talk with her. She can't get over your dis- 
charging Mr. Kalomel — he is the only man who 
ever really understood her. 

Dr. Herdal. 
If I could only pay her off a little bit of the 
huge, immeasurable debt I owe her — but I can't ! 

Hilda {looks hard at him). 

Can't / help you? I helped Ragnar Brovik. 
Didn't you know I stayed with him and poor little 
Kaia — after that accident to my Master Builder ? 
I did. I made Ragnar build me the loveliest casde 
in the air — lovelier, even, than poor Mr. Solness's 
would have been — and we stood together on the 
very top. The steps were rather too much for 
Kaia. Besides, there was no room for her on top. 
And he put towering spires on all his semi- 
detached villas. , Only, somehow, they didn't let. 



ACTii. PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 195 

Then the castle in the air tumbled down, and 
Ragnar went into liquidation, and I continued my 
walking-tour. 

^ Dr. Herdal {interested agaiiist his will') . 

And where did you go after that, may I ask, 
Miss Wangel? 

Hilda. 

Oh, ever so far North. There I met Mr. and 
Mrs. Tesman — the second Mrs. Tesman — she 
who was Mrs. Elvsted, with the irritating hair, you 
know. They were on their honeymoon, and had 
just decided that it was impossible to reconstruct 
poor Mr. Lovborg's great book out of Mrs. Elv- 
sted's rough notes. But I insisted on George's 
attempting the impossible — with Me. And what 
do you think Mrs. Tesman wears in her hair 
now ? 



196 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. actii. 

Dr. Herdal. 

Why, really I could not say. Vine-leaves, 

perhaps. 

Hilda. 

Wrong — straws I Poor Tesman didn't fancy 
that — so he shot himself, ?/;z-beautifully, through 
his ticket-pocket. And I went on and took 
Rosmersholm for the Summer. There had been 
misfortune in the house, so it was to let. Dear 
good old Rector Kroll acted as my reference ; his 
wife and children had no sympathy with his views, 
so I used to see him every day. And I persuaded 
him, too, to attempt the impossible — he had 
never ridden anything but a rocking-horse in his 
Hfe, but I made him promise to mount the White 
Horse of the Rosmersholms. He didn't get over 
that. They found his body, a fortnight afterwards, 
in the mill-dam. ThrilHng ! 



ACT II. PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 



m 



Dr. Herdal {shakes his finger at her). 
What a girl you are, Miss Wangel ! But you 
mustn't play these games here, you know. 

, - Hilda {laughs to herself) . 

Of course not. But I suppose I «;;/ a strange 
sort of bird. 

Dr. Herdal. 

You are like a strong tonic. When I look at 
you I seem to be regarding an effervescing saline 
draught. Still, I really must decline to take you. 

Hilda (a little sulky). 
That is not how you spoke ten years ago, up at 
the mountain station, when you were such a flirt ! 

Dr. Herdal. 
Was I a flirt? Deuce take me if I remember. 
But I am not hke that now. 



198 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act ii. 

Hilda. 

Then you have really forgotten how you sat next 
to me at the table d'hote, and made pills and 
swallowed them, and were so splendid and buoyant 
and free that all the old women who knitted left 
next day? 

Dr. Herdal. 

What a memory you have for trifles, Miss Wan- 
gel, it's quite wonderful ! 

Hilda. 

Trifles ! There was no trifling on your part. 
When you promised to come back in ten years, 
hke a troll, and fetch me ! 

Dr. Herdal. 

Did I say all that? It 7nust have been after 
table d'hote! 



ACTiL PILL-DOCrOR HERDAL. 199 

Hilda. 
It was. I was a mere chit then — only twenty- 
three ; but / remember. And now / have come 

for you. 

Dr. Herdal. 

Dear, dear ! But there is nothing of the troll 
about me now I have married Mrs. Solness. 

Hilda {looking sharply at him). 

Yes, I remember you were always dropping in 
to tea in those days. 

Dr. Herdal {seems hurt). 
Every visit was duly put down in the ledger and 
charged for — as poor little Senna will tell you. 

Hilda. 
Little Senna? Oh, Dr. Herdal, I beUeve there 
is a bit of the troll left in you still ! 



200 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, actii. 

Dr. Herdal {laughs a little) . 

No, no ; my conscience is perfectly robust — 
always was. 

Hilda. 

Are you quite quite sure that, when you went 
indoors with dear Mrs. Solness that afternoon, and 
left me alone with my Master Builder, you did not 
foresee — perhaps wish — intend, even a litde, 

that H'm? 

Dr. Herdal. 

That you would talk the poor man into clam- 
bering up that tower ? You want to drag Me into 
that business now ! 

Hilda {teasingly). 

Yes, I certainly think that then you went on 
exactly like a troll. 



ACT II. PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 201 

Dr. Herdal {with uncontrollable emotion). 

Hilda, there is not a corner of me safe from 
you ! Yes, I see now that must have been the 
way of it. Then I was a troll in that, too ! But 
isn't it terrible the price I have had to pay for 

it ? To have a wife who No, I shall never 

roll a pill again — never, never ! 

Hilda {lays her head on the stove, and answers 
as if half asleep). 
No more pills? Poor Doctor Herdal! 

Dr. Herdal {bitterly). 
No — nothing but cosy commonplace grey pow- 
ders for a whole troop of children. 

Hilda {lively again). 
Not grey powders! {Quite serioitsly.) I will 
tell you what you shall make next. Beautiful 



202 • MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act ii. 

rainbow-coloured powders that will give one a 
real grip on the world. Powders to make every 
one free and buoyant, and ready to grasp at one's 
own happiness, to dare what one woidd. I will 
have you make them. I will — I will! 

Dr. Herdal. 
H'm ! I am not quite sure that I clearly under- 
stand. And then the ingredients ? 

Hilda. 
What stupid people all of you pill-doctors are, 
to be sure ! Why, they will be poisons, of course ! 

Dr. Herdal. 

Poisons? Why in the world should they be 

that ? 

Hilda {without answering him) . 

All the thrillingest, deadliest poisons — it is only 
such things that are wholesome, nowadays. 




Beautiful rainbow-coloured powders that will give one 
a real grip on the world ! " 



PILL-DOCTOR HERBAL. 



205 



Dr. Herdal {as if caught by her enthusiasm). 

And I could colour them, too, by exposing 
them to rays cast through a prism. Oh, Hilda, 
how I have needed you all these years ! For, 
you see, with her it was impossible to discuss 
such things. \^Embraces her. 

Mrs. Herdal {enters noiselessly through hall- 
door) . 

I suppose, Haustus, you are persuading Miss 
Wangel to start by the afternoon steamer? I have 
bought her a pair of curling-tongs, and a packet 
of hair-pins. The larger parcels are coming on 
presently. 

Dr. Herdal {uneasily'). 

H'm ! Hilda — Miss Wangel, I should say — 
is kindly going to stay on a little longer, to assist 



2o6 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act ii. 

me in some scientific experiments. You wouldn't 
understand them if I told you. 

Mrs. Herdal. 
Shouldn't I, Haustus? I daresay not. 
[The New Book-keeper looks through the glass- 
door of Dispensaij. 

Hilda {^starts violently and points — then in a 

whisper') . 
Who is that? 

Dr. Herdal. 
Only the New Book-keeper and Assistant — a 
very intelligent person. 

Hilda {looks straight in front of her with a far- 
away expression, and whispers to herself). 

I thought at first it was . . . But no — that 
would be too firightfully thrilling ! 



ACT II. PILL-DOCTOR HERD A L. 207 

Dr. Herdal (to himself). 

I'm turning into a regular old troll now — but 
I can't help myself. After all, I am only an 
elderly Norwegian. We are made like that . . . 
Rainbow powders — real rainbow powders ! With 
Hilda ! . . . Oh, to have the joy of life once 
more ! 

\_Takes his temperature again as Curtain falls. 



ACT III. 

On the right, a smart verandah, attached to Dr. 
Herdal's dwelling-hoicse, and communicating 
with the Draiving-room and Dispensary by 
glass-doors. On the left a tumble-down rockery, 
with a headless plaster Mercury. In front, a 
lawn, with a lai^ge silvei^ed glass globe on a 
stand. Chairs and tables. All the furniture is 
of galvanised iron. A sunset is seen going on 
among the trees. 

Dr. Herdal incomes out of Dispensary-door cau- 
tiously, and whispers). 

Hilda, are you in there? 

\_Taps with fingers on Drawing-room door. 
208 



ACT III. PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 209 

Hilda {comes out with a half-ieasiiig suiile). 
Well — and how is the Rainbow-powder getting 
on, Dr. Herdal? 

Dr. Herdal {with enthusiasm) . 
It is getting on simply splendidly. I sent the 
new Assistant out to take a little walk, so that he 
should not be in the way. There is Arsenic in the 
powder, Hilda, and Digitalis too, and Strychnine, 
and the best Beetle-killer ! 

Hilda {u>ith happy, wondering eyes) . 
Lots of Beetle-killer? And you will give some 
of it to her, to make her free and buoyant. I 
think one really has the right — when people 
happen to stand in the way ! 

Dr. Herdal. 
Yes, you may well say so, Hilda. Still — {dubi- 



2IO MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, act iii. 

otcsly) — it does occur to me that such doings may 
perhaps be misunderstood — by the narrow-minded 
and conventional. 

\They go on the lawn, and sit down. 

Hilda {with an outburst). 

Oh, that all seems to me so foolish — so irrele- 
vant ! As if the whole thing wasn't intended as an 
Allegory ! 

Dr. Herdal {relieved). 

Ah, so long as it is merely allegorical, of 
course But what is it an allegory of, Hilda ? 

Hilda {reflects in vain). 

How can you sit there and ask such questions? 
I suppose I am a symbol, of some sort. 



ACT III. PIIL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 211 

Dr. Herdal {as a thought flashes upon him). 

A cymbal? That would certainly account for 
your bra Then am / a cymbal too, Hilda ? 

Hilda. 

Why yes — what else ? You represent the 
Artist-worker, or the Elder Generation, or the 
Pursuit of the Ideal, or a Bilious Conscience — 
or something or other. You'xt all right ! 

Dr. Herdal {shakes his head). 

Am I ? But I don't quite see — Well, well, 

cymbals are meant to clash a little. And I see 
plainly now that I ought to prescribe this powder 
for as many as possible. Isn't it terrible, Hilda, 
that so many poor souls never really die their own 
deaths — pass out of the world without even the 



212 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, act iii. 

formality of an inquest? As the district Coroner, 
I feel strongly on the subject. 

Hilda. 
And, when the Coroner has finished sitting on 
all the bodies, perhaps — but I shan't tell you now. 
{^Speaks as if to a child?) There, run away and 
finish making the Rainbow-powder, do ! 

Dr. Herdal {skips tp into the Dispensary). 
I will — I will ! Oh, I do feel such a troll — 
such a hght-haired, hght-headed old devil ! ■ 

RiJBUB {entei's gar den- gate). 
I have had my dismissal — but I'm not going 
without saying good-bye to Mrs. Herdal. 

Hilda. 
Dr. Herdal would disapprove — you really must 
not, Mr. Kalomel. And, besides, Mrs. Herdal is 



ACT III. PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 213 

not at home. She is in the town buying me a reel 
of cotton. Dr. Herdal is in. He is making real 
Rainbow-powders for regenerating everybody all 
around. Won't //^^z/ be fun ? 

RiJBUB. 

Making powders? Ha ! ha ! But you will see 
he won't take one himself. It is quite notorious 
to us younger men that he simply daren't do it. 

Hilda {with a little snort of contempt). 

Oh, I daresay — that's so likely ! (Defiantly.) 
I know he can, though. I've seen him ! 

RUBUB. 

There is a tradition that he once — but not 
now ~ he knows better. I think you said Mrs. 



214 MR, PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, act iii. 

Herdal was in the town? I will go and look for 
her. I understand her so well. 

[ Goes oiLt by gate. 

Hilda {calls) . 

Dr. Herdal ! Come out this minute. I want 
you — awfully ! 

Dr. Herdal {puts his head out). 

Just when I am making such wonderful progress 
with the powder ! i^Comes down and leans on a 
table ^ Have you hit upon some way of giving 
it to Ahne? I thought if you were to put it in 
her arrowroot ? 

Hilda. 

No, thanks. I won't have that now. I have 
just recollected that it is a rule of mine never 
to injure anybody I have once been formally 



ACT III. PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 215 

introduced to. Strangers don't count. No, poor 
Mrs. Herdal mustn't take that powder ! 

Dr. Herdal {disappointed^. 

Then is nothing to come of making Rainbow- 
powders, after all, Hilda? 

Hilda {looks hard at hint). 

People say you are afraid to take your own 
physic. Is that true? 

Dr. Herdal. 

Yes, I am. {After a pause — with candour.^ 
I find it invariably disagrees with me. 

Hilda {with a half -dubious smile). 

I think I can understand that. But you did 
once. You swallowed your own pills that day at 



2i6 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, act iii. 

the table d'hote, ten years ago. And I heard a 
harp in the air, too ! 

Dr. Herdal {open-mouthed'). 

I don't think that could have been Me. I don't 
play any instrument. And that was quite a special 
thing, too. It's not every day I can do it. Those 
were only birad pills, Hilda. 

Hilda {with flashing eyes) . 

But you rolled them ; you took them. And I 
want to see you stand once more free and high 
and great, swallowing your own preparations. 
{Passionately.) I will have you do it ! {Im- 
ploringly^ Just 07ice more. Dr. Herdal ! 

Dr. Herdal. 
If I did, Hilda, my medical knowledge, slight 



ACT III. PILL-DOCTOR HER DAL. 217 

as it is, leads me to the conclusion that I should 
in all probability burst. 

Hilda {looks deeply into his eyes). 

So long as you burst beautifully ! But no doubt 
that Miss Blakdraf 

Dr. Herdal. 

You must beheve in me utterly and entirely. 
I will do anything — anything, Hilda, to provide 
you with agreeable entertainment. I will swallow 
my own powder ! {To himself, as he goes gravely 
up to Dispensary?^ If only the drugs are suffi- 
ciently adulterated ! 

\_Goes in; as he does so, The New Assistant 
enters the garden in blue spectacles, unseen by 
Hilda, and follows him, leaving open the 
^lass-door. 



2i8 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, act iii. , 

Senna Blakdraf {comes wildly out of Drawing- 
room') . 
Where is dear Dr. Herdal? Oh, Miss Wangel, 
he has discharged me — but I can't — I simply 
can^t live away from that lovely ledger ! 

Hilda {jubilantly). 

At this moment Dr. Herdal is in the Dispensary, 
taking one of his own powders. 

Senna {despairingly). 

But — but it is utterly impossible ! Miss Wan- 
gel, you have such a firm hold of him — don't 
let him do that ! 

Hilda. 

I have already done all I can. 
[RiJBUB appears, talking confidentially with Mrs. 
Herdal, at gate. 



ACT III. PILL-DOCTOR HERBAL. 219 

Senna. 
Oh, Mrs. Herdal, Rubub ! The Pill-Doctor is 
going to take one of his own preparations. Save 
him — quick ! 

Rubub {with cold politeness). 
I am sorry to hear it — for his sake. But it 
would be quite contrary to professional etiquette 
to prevent him. 

Mrs. Herdal. 
And I never interfere with my husband's pro- 
ceedings. I know my duty, Miss Blakdraf, if 
others don't ! 

Hilda {exulting with great intensity). 
At last ! Now I see him in there, great and 
free again, mixing the powder in a spoon — with 
jam ! . . . Now he raises the spoon. Higher — 



220 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, act iii. 

higher still ! {A gulp is audible from within.^ 
There, didn't you hear a harp in the air? 
{Quietly.) I can't see the spoon any more. 
But there is one he is striving with, in blue 
spectacles ! 

The New Assistant's Voice {withiit). 

The Pill-Doctor Herdal has taken his own 
powder ! 

Hilda {as if petrified). 

That voice ! Where have I heard it before? 
No matter — he has got the powder down ! 
( Waves a shawl in the air, and shrieks 7vith wild 
jubilation^ It's too awfully thrilhng ! My — my 
Pill-Doctor ! 

The New Assistant {cojnes out on verandah). 
I am happy to inform you that — as, to avoid 




My — my Pill-Doctor ! 



ACT III. PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 223 

accidents, I took the simple precaution of filling 
all the Dispensary-jars with Camphorated Chalk 
— no serious results may be anticipated from Dr. 
Herdal's rashness. {Removes spectacles.) Nora, 
don't you know me? 

Hilda {reflects). 

I really don't remember having the pleas- 
ure And I'm sui^e I heard a harp in the 

air ! 

Mrs. Herdal. 

I fancy, Miss Wangel, it must have been merely 
a bee in your bonnet ! 

The New Assistant {tenderly). 

Still the same little singing-bird ! Oh, Nora, 
my long-lost lark ! 



224 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. act iii. 

Hilda {sulky). 

I'm not a lark — I'm a Bird of Prey — and, 
when I get my claws into anything ! 

The New Assistant. 

Macaroons, for instance? I remember your 
tastes of old. See, Nora ! {Produces a paper- 
bag from his coat-tail pocket?) They were fresh 
this morning ! 

Hilda {wavering). 

If you insist on calling me Nora, I think you 
must be just a little mad yourself. 

The New Assistant. 

We are all a Httle mad — in Norway. But 
Torvald Helmer is sane enough still to recognise 
his own little squirrel again ! Surely, Nora, your 



ACT III. PILL-DOCTOR HERD A L. 225 

education is complete at last — you have gained 
the experience you needed? 

Hilda {nods slowly). 

Yes, Torvald, you're right enough there. I have 
thought things out for myself, and have got clear 
about them. And I have quite made up my 
mind that Society and the Law are all wrong, 
and that I am right. 

Helmer {oveijoyed). 

Then you have learned the Great Lesson, and 
are fit to undertake the charge of your children's 
education at last ! You've no notion how they've 
grown ! Yes, Nora, our marriage will be a true 
marriage now. You will come back to the DoU's- 
House, won't you? 



226 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, act iii. 

Hilda-Nora-Helmer-Wangel {hesitates) . 
Will you let me forge cheques if I do, Torvald ? 

Helmer {ardently). 

All day. And at night, Nora, we will falsify the 
accounts — together ! 

Hilda-Nora-Helmer-Wangel {throws herself into 
his arms, and helps herself to macaroons) . 

That will be fearfully thrilling ! My — my 
Manager ! 

Dr. Herdal {comes out, very pale, from Dis- 
pensary) . 

Hilda, I did take the I'm afraid I inter- 
rupt you? 



ACT III. PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL. 227 

Helmer. 
Not in the least. But this lady is my little 
lark, and she is going back to her cage by the 
next steamer. 

Dr. Herdal {bitterly). 
Am I never to have a gleam of happiness — ? 
But stay -— do I see my little Senna once more ? 

RiJBUB. 

Pardon me — my little Senna. She always be- 
Heved so firmly in my pill ! 

Dr. Herdal. 
Well — well. If it must be. Rlibub, I will take 
you into partnership, and we will take out a patent 
for that pill, jointly. Aline, my poor dear Ahne, 
let us try once more if we cannot bring a ray of 
brightness into our cheerless home ! 



228 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN, act iii. 

Mrs. Herdal. 

Oh, Haustus, if only we could — but why do 
you propose that to me ■ — now ? 

Dr. Herdal {softly — to himself) . 

Because I have tried being a troll — and found 
that nothing came of it, and it wasn't worth 
sixpence ! 

[Hilda-Nora goes off to the right ivith Helmer ; 
Senna to the left with Rubub; Dr. Herdal 
and Mrs. Herdal sit on two of the galvanised 
iron-chairs, and shake their heads disconso- 
lately as the Curtain falls. 

THE end. 



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